he always gets what he wants
by Iloveplotbunnies
Summary: Patrick Jane always got what he wanted, even if that meant using her in the process, to get Teresa Lisbon back exactly where she belonged—in his arms. J/L, J/VP.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **he always gets what he wants

**Rating: **T, for language, humor, and minor violence scenes—set three to four years _after _the season 3 finale—but rest assured, there are no spoilers lurking for season four.

**Disclaimer: **Nope.

**Total Word Count**: 37,088+

**Beta(s): **1st part: watchyouwalk, 2nd part: frogster, 3rd part: vegananthrofreak

**Pairings: **Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon, and quite a few others. ;)

**Summary: **Patrick Jane always got what he wanted, even if that meant using her in the process, to get Teresa Lisbon back exactly where she belonged—in his arms. J/L, J/VP.

**Author Notes: **

I wrote this for Het Big Bang, and it was such a fun (and lighthearted) piece to write!

With that being said, I want to thank my three wonderful betas (who seriously made sure this piece was finished, and looking all beautiful for my deadline!) I also want to thank all of the people who held my hand, or cheered me on while I was trying to juggle 25K, a new work schedule, and a full-time university schedule.

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><p><strong>1: Rumors<strong>

Water cooler talk, at least in Agent Grace Van Pelt's mind, was not only trivial, but it was also a waste of time. It always seemed to be about the same things; who slept with who, who wanted to sleep with who, and the Serious Crimes Unit consultant, Patrick Jane.

(Honestly, it never ceased to amaze the fair red-haired agent how many women knew more about him than she did; especially after working with him for almost seven years.)

Usually, she tried to avoid the kitchenette before the boss arrived to scare off the gaggle of fan girls who seemed all too eager to bed Jane, but on that particular morning—after a long night of chasing down suspects—she just couldn't wait for the boss to arrive _or_ for a cup of coffee. With her shoulders squared, she entered the small kitchenette on the third floor to find the usual early morning, pre-work employees sharing cups of coffee, talking over whatever juicy gossip the three had managed to stir up that morning, or the day previous.

None of them even acknowledged her as she moved toward the lukewarm coffee pot and began the search for her own pink coffee mug, which suited her _just _fine. She lifted her own mug from Jane's ever-so-impressive tea collection cabinet with a frown.

For the past week, _somebody _had been moving her coffee mug into Jane's tea collection, and quite frankly, it was beginning to annoy her. All she wanted was coffee, not a scavenger hunt at seven thirty on a Friday morning.

_Maybe I should consider leaving a note_, she mused while she set her pink mug down on the clean counter. _No, _she shook her head,_ it would never work. _It was then, as she continued to plan out how to keep her mug in one place, that the conversation between the three women became more noticeable.

"…it just _can't _be true!" Taylor Conway from Payroll exclaimed. "Where'd you hear this juicy tidbit from?"

"Tammy in the Director's office—you know how she has to keep the employee records up to date, right?" Van Pelt couldn't place the voice to a face or a name, but she knew the other women were hanging on to her every word. "Well, yesterday evening, his marital status was changed from married to single. _Apparently_, they've been divorced for weeks now—and he's only getting around to telling everybody now!"

Van Pelt rolled her eyes as she poured her coffee; it wasn't as if they had anything _/imore/i _interesting or important to talk about than the destroyed love life of someone (she assumed) who was a state agent.

"Do you think he might like some comfort?" Aubrey Albright from Employee Support Services coyly asked. "Or even a home-cooked meal? I doubt he's going to do much cooking from a hotel room."

"Aub," the unknown voice chimed in with a laugh. "The last time you attempted to cook, you almost burnt down our apartment, remember?"

"I said I was sorry!"

"So no, I doubt he'll want burnt food _or _food poisoning."

The three women laughed softly.

"It's really sad though," Taylor commented. "He lost one wife to such horribleness, and now? He's lost a second for something else." She paused. "Of course, it does mean something that his second wife wasn't murdered."

"I always thought the woman was a bitch, or at the very least, a lesbian." Aubrey continued. "How could _any _woman give up a man as perfect as Patrick Jane?"

Van Pelt tensed; they couldn't be serious!

"Aubrey!" The two women chided. "Keep your voice down! I'm not even sure if anybody knows yet!"

"Sorry Di, Taylor! I'm just stating the facts."

The room grew silent, and Van Pelt tightened her hand around the handle of the half-full coffee pot. She was _almost _tempted to toss the contents on the three gossip mongers.

Patrick Jane loved his wife! Every time the man had managed to something idiotic for the past year and a half—which always happened like clockwork—he sent his wife a vase of a dozen red roses without the thorns; so there was _no _way that what they were saying held water at all!

"I agree with Aubrey, though." Diana confessed. "You would have to be insane to fall out of love with that man."

Van Pelt couldn't take another moment of their gossip, and without even grabbing her coffee mug, she left for the Serious Crimes Unit. The bullpen was rather full for an early morning, but she said nothing to anybody as she slid into her chair.

If Jane _was _getting a divorce, they would have _known _about it! They would have all seen some sign from Lisbon or Jane to indicate it was coming! But, no; she had never seen a sign from either Jane or Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon to suggest that their marriage of one year was falling apart.

"Morning, Grace." Rigsby greeted, and she almost wanted to ask him about the rumor—but if she didn't know anything, she doubted he knew. So instead, she just gave him a small wave in greeting. Cho was second-in-command, and if anybody would know, he probably would. "You look troubled; anything wrong?" She shook her head.

"I'm fine, really."

"Good."

Logically, she knew asking him also might give him the wrong idea about her intentions toward the consultant. (Her intentions, of course, were pure at heart; she and Jane were what some people called friends, and Lisbon was her, well…boss…and asking either of them was out of the question.)

Lisbon had never once said it was all right to ask (or discuss) personal matters in the office, and Jane was Jane; the chances she'd even receive a truthful answer from the man were slim to none.

"Wayne?" He glanced up at her from his desk. "Is Cho here yet?"

"Nope, not yet anyway." Well, that ruined _that _plan. With a quick glance to her computer's clock, she knew Lisbon would be entering the bullpen soon, effectively putting an end to all chances of a pre-work conversation.

He opened his mouth to say something when she cut in. "Think we'll catch a case today?" Rigsby shrugged, and Van Pelt heaved a sigh of relief. She was a horrible liar, and if he had asked her why about Cho…she would have been caught.

"I hope." He replied. "Audits aren't exactly the thrill of my mornings." He then grinned up at her, from his desk. "This is one of those few times I wish I was Jane."

"Then, Lisbon yells at him." Cho answered, as he entered into the bullpen with a cup of coffee in his hand. "…and the illusion is broken." He sat down at his own desk, while Rigsby nodded, enthusiastically.

"Besides," Rigsby continued. "I don't think I could work with my wife."

Van Pelt wanted to laugh, but she couldn't. Even Cho, himself, seemed to be on the verge of a small frown before he noticed her staring, and just shrugged before drawing Rigsby into a conversation. Left alone, she tried to focus on everything and anything but the personal lives of the boss and the consultant. However, luck seemed to be on her side that morning as Lisbon rushed into the bullpen.

The woman, from a quick glance, certainly didn't look any different from any other day; she wore a dark collared shirt, dark dress pants, a leather jacket, her usual loafers, and the lone glittering cross around her neck. Unfortunately, neither Jane nor Lisbon wore their wedding bands to work for certain reasons (both dealing with Lisbon's, as Jane would always say, "paranoia".) So even trying to figure out via not-usually-worn jewelry would be impossible.

Rigsby sighed as the boss left for her office. "More audits today, then."

"It could be worse," Cho replied. "You could be diving through dumpsters." Rigsby grimaced, and glanced down at the phone on his desk.

"Just once, I wish it would ring."

And as if on cue, the phone rang and Rigsby hurried to answer it.

"Rigsby." There was a pause. "When I said I wanted a phone call, this wasn't what I had in mind."

"Are you sure?" Jane asked, as he entered the bullpen with his cell phone pressed against one ear. "I could have a body to report."

Rigsby slammed the phone down on the receiver, and Van Pelt chuckled. Jane was Jane—divorce or no divorce, he'd still try to get one over on _somebody_. "Funny."

"It did make your morning more interesting, didn't it?" Jane asked as he moved to sit on his couch.

"That's not the point." Rigsby argued. "What if a _real _crime happened and somebody needed us?"

"A few moments more wouldn't help them, Rigsby—we usually just get the dead ones." Jane answered before he turned his focus toward her. "Good morning, Grace. You're looking exceptionally lovely this morning."

"Thanks." She paused. "How are you doing this morning, Jane?"

"I'm doing just fine."

She turned in her desk chair to glance at him, as if there would really be a sign over his head saying something about the divorce, but he didn't _look_any different from any other day, either.

He wore a navy blue three-piece suit, old brown leather shoes, and a semi-friendly smile aimed in her direction. He seemed relaxed, but it honestly didn't mean much—the man was the master of illusions and deceptions.

For all she knew, he could be hurting and nobody was even trying to sooth his pain! So, she did the only things she could think to do (aside from giving him a hug) in a situation like this.

She gave a bright smile and cheerfully asked, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

After all, what could it hurt?

**X.X.X**

"Grace, I have a question for you." Jane spoke finally, after he had been twiddling his thumbs for the past hour or so in the passenger seat of the SUV. She and Jane had left the crime scene on Lisbon's order, after having been able to do something that _hadn't _involved the use of pens, pencils, or filling out forms for at least a few hours. "I'm sure, by now, you've heard about Ter…" He paused, and cleared his throat. "Lisbon and I's…situation."

She frowned as her cheeks grew warm again, and she shot him a sideward glance. "How'd you know, Jane?"

"You're an open book, Van Pelt." Jane answered. "You've wanted to ask one of us all day, but of course you couldn't. Lisbon has never been one for talking about us, Cho couldn't honestly tell you without betraying Lisbon's trust, and Rigsby is clueless." Jane then shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Jane." And she really was. They made a good couple together, even if the romance had been a bit of a whirlwind (and unorthodox).

"I know you are." He answered. "However, that wasn't my question."

"What is it?" She couldn't exactly chance another glance in his direction—she was driving, and the last time her attention had been stolen, she had met Craig O'Laughlin.

(Her fingers, involuntarily, tightened around the steering wheel.)

"If you pull over, I'll ask."

"Is this related to our case?"

"Quite possibly."

She sighed—what if Jane was pulling her leg? But then again, if Lisbon found out he had something even remotely related to the case to say (or ask), and she hadn't stopped, she'd _never _hear the end of it. "I don't know, Jane. Lisbon…"

"…can wait." He finished. "She's really all bark, and none of the bite."

Of _course_, he would say that! Lisbon wasn't _his _boss, and she had no control over him whatsoever.

"Fine." She replied, and eventually, she found a small picnic area off the side of the road and parked before he could say another word. "All right, Jane. We're parked. What'd you want to ask me?" She turned in her seat to glance at him just as he undid his seat belt and leaned over to yank the keys out of the ignition. "Jane! We need those!" She started to lean forward when he opened his car door and jumped out with a smirk on his face.

"Come and get them, Grace."

She wasn't about to indulge him and his childish games, but she wasn't going to just sit there either! Carefully, she undid her seat belt, opened her car door, and slid out of the vehicle.

"I'm calling Lisbon!"

"Good luck doing that without a phone!" He called back to her, and she grimaced before searching for her phone, which had been in her pocket at the crime scene (but was now _mysteriously _missing).

She stomped around the vehicle to find Jane sitting on the ledge of a picnic table with her iPhone in his hand. Luckily, it wasn't raining, and the weather was cool enough to sit outside comfortably—but they _really _needed to be back at the office.

He glanced up from the phone, smiled his smile, and waved her over. Begrudgingly, she moved toward him until they were inches apart.

"I don't understand the purpose of an iPhone," he told her. "You pay the extra money for all the bells and whistles, but you can't do anything special with it."

"Give me back my phone."

"No can do." He threw her a smile. "Do you want my question? Because once I get an acceptable answer, you can have your over-priced item back."

"Ask, please. We need to get back to Lisbon." He chuckled, and she crossed her arms against her chest. "Am I amusing you, Jane?" She was beginning to get angry, and _very _rarely did she aim her anger toward co-workers. Jane, if she grew angry enough however, was always the exception to the rule.

"Oh, Grace." Jane replied, still laughing. "Does Lisbon still frighten you?"

"Lisbon doesn't scare me!" She snapped in defense. Lisbon hadn't scared her since her first week of work years ago, and Jane knew that.

"Liar."

"Watch who you're calling a liar, Jane."

"Do you _really _think I'm scared of you?" He asked with a smile. "Lisbon may be all bark, but you're neither bark nor bite." He paused. "How'd you even score into the bureau, Grace? I've always wondered. You're not a violent person, you participate in standing on your head, and you aren't a bitch."

She clenched her hands into fists. Was he _really _suggesting that she had slept her way through the academy?

The _bastard_.

"I'll just walk back to the CBI." She turned her back on him, and started to walk away when he called her name again.

"Van Pelt!"

"Not listening!" She continued forward, and she could hear him behind her. "I am _not _above reporting you for sexual harassment, Jane."

"I don't doubt that." He called after her. "I'm sure another sexual harassment seminar is just what the unit wants."

"How would you know what we want?" She turned to face him. "And no, the reason 'you're an open book' no longer applies."

"Don't be so testy, Van Pelt." Jane replied. "I wasn't implying you had slept your way to the top. I was merely asking how somebody with your aptitude with being so…" she narrowed her eyes slightly. She wasn't psychic, but she had a feeling the man would try and throw the word "naïve" into trying to explain her. "…optimistic, could manage to earn a spot on Agent Lisbon's team, where most of her agents' are cynics, realists, and…"

"Skeptics?" She shot back, and he nodded. "Was that your question, Jane?"

"Nope." She furrowed her brows.

"Does this question lead anywhere related to our current case?"

"Nope." He repeated, and she sighed.

"Then why should I answer you?"

"Because, it's rude to ignore such a well-thought-out question." She blinked. "Don't tell me you don't have an answer."

She almost _wanted _to ignore him, but it wasn't in her nature. "Gee, Jane, I've never really asked Lisbon why she hired me."

"You're a lot like her, you know?" He suddenly stated. "Both of you are stubborn, sarcastic on your good days, and strong…it's why I fell in love with her."

"Do you still love her?"

"Does anybody truly grow out of loving another?" He asked. "I still love my wife, and I still love Lisbon…even if she doesn't like it." His expression grew somber. "I'm sure you understand."

She bit her lip and nodded, her anger forgotten, momentarily. Parts of her, even after months of intensive therapy, still loved and missed Craig. "I do."

"Which brings me to my question." He stated, and she nodded. "Are you currently seeing anybody?"

"What kind of a question is this?" She deflected. "My personal life is none of your b…"

"A very logical one." He interrupted, and her facial expression _must _have done something, for he sighed. "Just answer the question, Grace."

"No, Jane, I'm not." She replied, after a few moments of tense silence. "I _still _don't see why this question…"

"Go out with me. Be my girlfriend." He interrupted again, and she just stared at him. Had he completely gone and lost his mind? "We can go off into the sunset together." Yes, he had _definitely _lost his mind.

"Did you suffer a blow to the head?" She tilted her head toward him, and wondered if Lisbon hadn't accidently caused some head trauma to the consultant. "Should I call an ambulance?"

"I assure you, I am _perfectly _fine." He answered.

"Oh, well, in that case…" she paused; maybe she hadn't heard him right? "You want me to do _what_?"

"I'm sure you heard me, Grace." Jane answered, calmly. "I know you aren't _completely _hard of hearing."

"You really have no heart, do you?" If this _was _a joke, it was just mean—and she didn't like it.

He smirked. "I'm a cold, heartless bastard." She shook her head in pure disbelief; the man obviously had no idea what the word _tact _meant. Even more so, the man was an idiot for having just spent the last ten minutes or so insulting her. Honestly! Who did he think he was?

"And I'm really leaving now." She turned her back on him again, when she heard the familiar sounds of something jingling behind her.

"Forgetting these?" She didn't even need to turn to see that he was holding her keys in the air.

"No. I'm walking." She started to walk again, when she felt him grab onto her upper arm. "Let me go, Jane!"

"I need to forget her." He continued, softly. "You're the only other female who works on the unit, and you're the only one who isn't done in by my charms."

She cursed herself, mentally—why was it just her luck to be placed with Jane?

"You are _really _begging for me to hurt you, aren't you?" She struggled in his grasp again.

"Grace, please. It's not like I'm asking you to move in with me or marry me. I'm just asking for a push in the right direction."

"No, Jane." She repeated. It didn't even _feel_right, and she had no romantic feelings whatsoever toward him.

"Why not?" He let her upper arm go, and she turned to face him again.

"For one," she responded. "Rigsby would kill you."

(Though they _weren't _together—and hadn't been for a while—it didn't mean the man didn't still harbor feeling towards her…and throwing Jane into the mix didn't _really_ seem like a good idea.)

"I can handle him. Go on."

"Two, Lisbon might try and kill me."

Jane chuckled. "We've been over this, Grace; the woman is all bark, and none the bite. Besides," he blinked. "She _had _her chance."

And once again, Van Pelt didn't think it was _that _simple or right…but apparently, Mr. Manipulator thought he could manipulate his own emotions. The human mind wasn't a machine. It just didn't work like that.

"Three, the bureau rules…"

"…only apply to state agents within the same unit." Jane beamed. "I'm a consultant. There's no clause in our contracts that prevent these things from happening."

Oh, how she wished there was…

"But above everything else," she continued. "It's because I said no."

"…which can easily be changed." He brightly responded, before he held out her keys and iPhone, which she happily grabbed before he could try and do something else with them (or to her). "You'll say yes, Agent Van Pelt."

She scoffed as she threw open her car door. "I wouldn't hold your breath, Jane."


	2. Payback Pt 1

**Title: **he always gets what he wants

**Disclaimer: **No.

Thank you to all the story alerts, and the reviews! I seriously appreciate each and every one that comes into my inbox. :)

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><p><strong>2: Payback (Pt. 1) <strong>

_Monday_

The rest of the weekend had been relatively boring in Van Pelt's honest opinion. Lisbon had wanted her researching their victim's (a local man, Adam Greene, who had drowned to death) background information and finances. Though nothing had immediately sent up a yellow flag of caution, she was optimistic.

(Usually, she wanted _more _field time, but Jane was always in the field, and in her opinion, the less contact they had after his bizarre brain malfunction, the better.)

So, once again came Monday, and with a warm cup of coffee-cart-bought coffee in her hands, she entered the bullpen with a bright smile on her face, ready to start the day.

"Good morning, Grace." Jane greeted from his leather couch, and she glanced at him before she focused on anything else. (Jane became a slightly scary individual if you ignored him.) "You look cheerful for such a dreary Monday morning."

It had been slightly sprinkling earlier, but nothing…and she meant _nothing _would ruin her good mood (even if Jane's early arrival was _really_ out of character and made her somewhat weary of what he had done while she wasn't at her desk).

"I also see you've bought a coffee from the coffee cart." She nodded, and took an idle sip. "Hoping to avoid the gruesome threesome, I suppose?"

"Gossiping and coffee don't go together too well."

Not only that, but she wanted to avoid the three women in case Jane had let slip about him wanting to…date her. The _last _thing she wanted was to become the next gossip icon for the CBI.

Jane chuckled. "I think you might find them off elsewhere, this morning." She tilted her head slightly. "Agent Lisbon came in and frightened them off. Quite comical, if you ask me."

Van Pelt paled. "The boss is here?"

"She's been here all night." Jane replied. "Something she's been doing more often lately. I'd go visit her, but her blinds are drawn…and I very much value my life."

Or, though she didn't say it out loud, he was fearful of dealing with his ex-wife and her "anger issues" at eight in the morning.

"Did you give any thought to my serious question that I asked you about the other day?" He continued.

She blinked. He was serious? She hadn't even taken it (or him) as being serious. "No, I didn't. I've been hard at work."

"Maybe you should?" He offered brightly, and she grimaced again; her answer, whether his question (in her mind then) had been serious or not, was still _no_. "I always get what I want, Grace." He paused to offer her a flirtatious smile. "And, I want you."

His words, for some reason, made her shiver. Jane, without a flashlight (or even without being ignored) was still a scary person.

"Van Pelt!"

Lisbon's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she glanced from Jane to find her boss standing in the doorway of her small office.

"Coming, boss!" Van Pelt quickly glanced back at Jane, who merely grinned while he settled back onto his couch to do whatever he usually did on said couch.

"We'll talk later, Grace. I'm sure."

Yeah, it wasn't as if they hadn't anything to discuss, she thought as she turned to head toward Lisbon's office to start her day.

Thirty minutes later, Van Pelt found herself back in the buzzing bullpen. Lisbon hadn't exactly wanted much, besides an update on all the background searches she had done. With a quick sweep of her co-workers, she noticed that Jane was stretched out on the couch (though she couldn't tell if his eyes were closed or not) and Cho plus Rigsby (who had both apparently come into the office while she was with the boss) were already settled in for the day at their respective desks.

She didn't feel comfortable enough to head back to her desk without Jane saying anything about his question, but if she remained in front of Lisbon's office, the woman would surely say something about it, and Lisbon (like Jane feared) was in a bad mood. Van Pelt pulled out her desk chair and then stared down at her desk in mute surprise.

Somebody (most likely Jane) had left a single pink rose on her desk. She merely lifted it and hurriedly stuffed it inside one of her desk drawers, before anyone (Rigsby or Lisbon, as she doubted Cho would say a word about the romance soap opera going on behind closed doors) could say a word. Seriously though, if he was going to continue to make her say yes, he had to be losing it! She didn't care how many flowers he'd send her—her answer was always going to be no, and she planned to tell him that later.

However, that plan didn't exactly work out as well as she thought.

Lisbon had wanted Jane with her all day while she was questioning suspects, and the two of them probably weren't going to be back till later. So, while Cho and Rigsby had gone out to lunch, and the bullpen was almost empty, she pulled out the rose again.

"He's an idiot if he thinks I'm going to agree to this." She muttered darkly as she examined the thorn-less flower.

The colors of roses, she knew, had many different meanings; a quick Google search on her iPhone, as Lisbon probably monitored their computer site visits, yielded plenty of information—a pink rose meant appreciation, "thank you", Grace (she rolled her eyes), perfect happiness, admiration, gentleness, and "please believe me".

She rolled her eyes again.

Jane was absolutely insane! Flowers only held so much meaning, and if he _really _thought a single rose involving the message "please believe me" was going to change her mind…well, Lisbon clearly needed the flower more than her.

Normally, Van Pelt wouldn't dare step into the boss's office unless the woman was in there, but drastic times called for drastic measures.

She was going to slip the rose into Lisbon's office.

(Hopefully, once Lisbon saw it, she'd take Jane back, and he'd say yes. So really, she reasoned, the outcome of a happily ever after outweighed the various risks.)

**X.X.X**

"…Williams didn't do it, Lisbon." Jane cried as she glanced up from her computer and over her shoulder to glance at the both of them. "She's a…"

"Rather harmless annoyance?" Lisbon asked. "You can't base how innocent our suspects are based on how _harmless _they are."

"Says who?"

Van Pelt went back to her computer screen—she had learned from past happenings that it was best to let them argue without getting in the middle.

"Me?" Lisbon gave. "The law…"

"Meh, the rules are biased. She didn't do it, and you just want an open-and-shut case."

Lisbon grew silent. "No, Jane. I just want a person brought to justice. Forgive me for wanting to do so."

"You're forgiven." He cheekily replied, and Lisbon huffed. "Now, my job is done. I want tea and my couch."

"Your job isn't done until we catch the murderer, Jane."

"Until _you _catch the murderer." Jane returned. "I just point fingers; guilty is guilty, unless proven innocent."

She glanced over her shoulder at him again. "The saying is innocent till proven guilty."

He grinned. "To you, maybe…but to me, it's guilt before innocence." Lisbon, Van Pelt noticed, started toward her office, and she held her breath in hopes that the two would have some type of an A-HA moment. Jane continued to prattle on about the latest suspect (Brittany Williams), who was innocent due to her liking of tea.

"People who like tea can't be murders, Van Pelt." Jane informed, and she raised her eyebrow. "I don't count, as I was never convicted."

He had a point; no jury (even if the judge had put together the best jury in the state of California, which he had tried) could or would convict Patrick Jane.

She frowned. "I never said you were a murderer."

"Ah, but you thought it."

She opened her mouth to respond, when Lisbon's door shot open.

"Jane!" The boss hissed, and Jane glanced in her direction. "My office, now!"

"I haven't done anything worth lecturing yet, Lisbon!"

"Get your ass in my office, right now!"

Jane crept along, and Van Pelt felt guilty. She had probably pretty much just sentenced Jane to his death.

Cho glanced at her. "What'd he do?"

She shrugged, and Rigsby shook his head. "I'd hate to be Jane right now."

The three co-workers grew silent, and she continued to glance at the drawn blinds of the boss's office.

"Make up your mind." Cho commented. "One moment you want to be Jane, the next you don't."

"It's really difficult to decide, okay?"

"No, it isn't." Rigsby continued to defend himself to Cho, who wasn't having it. Any other day, she would have been trying to disguise her amusement at the easy-go relationship, but Lisbon's office was rather silent. The silence, in her opinion, was _much _scarier than the boss actually screaming at Jane.

"You don't think Jane's in danger, do you?" She asked, and both Cho and Rigsby glanced at her.

"From Lisbon or himself?" Rigsby questioned, with a soft chuckle.

"It's _really _quiet in her office."

Rigsby waved it off. "Jane's probably asking for forgiveness." Van Pelt doubted that, and she opened her mouth to tell him otherwise when Jane stepped from Lisbon's office, with an odd look on his face. "See, Grace? He's in one piece."

The more she stared at Jane, the more she doubted that—the man looked as if he had been sent through the wringer more than once.

"Grace," Jane addressed her, and she nodded cautiously. "Do you think you can make me a cup of tea?" He sounded confused, and somewhat lost.

"Sure, Jane."

She stood from her desk and left the bullpen, Jane traveling close behind her. She almost wanted to make an excuse at the last minute, but as they entered the kitchenette and he didn't immediately say anything, she felt relieved. She fluttered around the kitchen (with a light skip in her step) and had the tea kettle on the open flame before he addressed her.

"That was a bitchy thing to do, Grace."

She turned toward him. "You're the one who said I should become more of a bitch." Years ago, of course—but the time didn't matter.

Jane chuckled. "Of all the times to become bitchy." He shook his head. "She found the rose, which I _assume _you snuck into her office?"

Van Pelt felt her cheeks grow hot. "Why didn't you tell Lisbon?"

"Leverage." He smiled, with a shrug. "Lisbon had already made up her mind, and now I'm completely free to date whomever I want."

"I thought you two were already divorced."

"In all but name, we were." He answered. "Today, she handed me the papers."

She was absolutely mortified. She was the reason for the rush in the divorce proceedings; Jane probably hated her, and he had a good reason to do so. However, the man must have sensed her thoughts, for he shook his head.

"You shouldn't blame yourself, Grace. You were only trying to be a good and helpful friend. You had no idea that Lisbon—in her mind, at least—has already moved on."

Jane wanted to move on because Lisbon had? The logic behind his sudden question was becoming more and more logical. It didn't mean she was going to say yes though.

"I'm sorry, Jane." The tea kettle whistled, and Jane hummed.

"It's really all right. I'm sure she'll be happier with her multi-billionaire boyfriend." She knew only _one _multi-billionaire who had an interest in Lisbon.

"Mashburn? Lisbon's dating _Mashburn_?" Jane didn't say anything in response to her exclamation. "If you're nodding, I can't see it."

"Yes, she is." Jane replied.

"Why would she date him?" This entire dating thing was _confusing_, and she wondered how the gossipers never got their share of headaches.

"You surely can't be _that _blind, Van Pelt." She didn't reply, but she frowned—why did _everybody _assume she was blind? "Our lovely Agent Lisbon had a little affair with Walter three years ago."

Van Pelt couldn't even _begin _to wrap her head around that one—not the affair, but the idea of Mashburn and Lisbon together (although, in the multi-billionaire's defense, she didn't see Jane and Lisbon together at first either).

"You really didn't notice, did you?"

"Forgive me for having other things to focus on." She sniped back in return. Jane grew quiet as she set his tea cup down in front of him. "Do your own dishes."

"I was insensitive; forgive me." Jane replied. "If it makes you feel any better, Cho and Rigsby have no idea."

"About your divorce or Lisbon's affair?"

"Cho knows about the divorce; he's been letting me stay in his apartment. Rigsby has no idea, although…it won't stay that way for long. As for the affair, all so many years ago, I doubt anybody knows." She didn't say anything, as he sipped at his tea. "I don't think I need to tell you this, Grace…but you owe me."

"I owe you?" Her voice grew in volume. "I _owe _you? How do I owe you?"

"You got me into trouble, and I want my payback." Jane apparently thought his methods were going to cause her to fall at his feet. They weren't. His methods were only making her angry.

"You put that rose on _my _desk in the first place!"

"Did you get the message?" He interrupted her building rant.

"I got it, loud and clear, Jane! It's not happening."

He grinned. "Oh, it will." He took another sip of his tea. "You owe me, and by Friday, you'll be mine. No worries."

If this had anybody _but _Jane, she would have taken the off-handed remark as harassment. It angered her that the man just assumed she owed him (even if she sort of did—if Lisbon found out the rose had been her fault, the desk would become a permanent fixture in her professional life).

"You're absolutely insane!" She declared, and he shrugged in response.

"Aren't we all just a little insane?"

His wide, swallow-you-whole smile made her wonder if this would be a good week to take some of those built up vacation days. Lisbon would understand her need for a sudden vacation—but what if he followed her? She eyed him warily. When Jane had something he wanted, he was damn near scary about it! And the last thing she wanted was to find the man camped out in the back of her car, waiting until they were miles out from Sacramento before he popped out at her.

On second thought, time off was an _extremely _bad idea!

"I'm going back to work now." She turned on her heels to leave the kitchenette when his voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Just keep this in mind, Grace." She didn't turn back around to face him. "Payback is a bitch, and you are merely its mistress."

In his world, she didn't doubt that.

_Tuesday_

Thankfully, Tuesday morning was much better—even if she had wanted to call in sick the night before. The bullpen was mostly empty, and she discreetly glanced at the couch (which was thankfully empty) and at the top of her desk, which held nothing out of place.

Van Pelt doubted Jane was going to actually listen to her, which meant secret-admirer-Jane would continue to leave her little trinkets of bribery. Carefully, she slipped off her handcuffs and gun before she opened the drawer where she usually kept her tools of the trade (when she wasn't out on the field).

To her surprise, the drawer had something inside besides the usual junk. A black, rectangular box, much like the one Jane had given the boss and herself (although it had been white) after hitting it big time at the casino. She lifted it from the drawer and glanced around; nobody was paying her any attention (and none of the unit was around, except for Lisbon, who was probably in her office). She placed the box on her desk, placing her fingers at the front of the box and opening the lid to find a gorgeous, sapphire tear drop pendant gleaming back at her against a background of black velvet.

_Where in the world did he get the money? _ She wondered. The CBI wasn't exactly handing out money trees to its employees, and unless Jane won the lottery, hit up a casino, or robbed a bank (which they'd all know about—Lisbon would tear the man limb from limb for illegally using his skills to gamble or commit any type of non-boss-sanctioned crime), she doubted he had that much money on him.

It was beautiful, she decided with a frown, but she couldn't keep it. It'd give the man hope, and the last thing she wanted him believing was that he had a chance of her agreeing to this entire plan.

"Is that from the person who left a rose on your desk yesterday?" Rigsby asked, and she quickly closed the lid to the box.

"No." she lied. "Why would you ask that?" She spun to face him in her chair, and he shrugged.

"Jane said you had a secret admirer, and I thought he was pulling my leg…but I guess he wasn't." Van Pelt groaned silently; for a unit that didn't discuss personal issues within the team, why did everyone seem so nosy?

"Whether I have one or don't have one is none of your business." She answered; Rigsby could be _just _as intuitive to her as Jane was to Lisbon. She added this to yet another reason why she would never say yes to Jane. "Wayne." She continued with a sigh. "I have no feelings for whoever keeps giving me these gifts." She opened her top drawer again and hastily deposited the box inside. "It's nice, really. But no."

Rigsby smiled in satisfaction before he started to his desk, and she fumed.

Why did her entire career have to be marked by guys who had damned agendas? Dan Hollenbeck had wanted to kill Jane, Craig had been Red John's mole, and Jane wanted to use her to leverage himself back into Lisbon's life.

Some days _really _weren't worth the trouble of working at the CBI, she ultimately decided as she slipped the necklace box into Jane's couch.

She knew he'd find it eventually, anyway.

_Wednesday_

"You just keep slipping your secret admirer gifts into my life, Grace." Jane sat the box down in front of her as they both remained in the kitchenette. He sat down across from her, and she shook her head with a cup of coffee in her hands.

"I don't want that."

"Of course you do." He replied. "You're afraid of what Lisbon, or the team or even I might think if you took it."

"Once again," she reminded him, "I don't want it. You can have it."

He frowned. "This doesn't go very well with what I wear, Grace." She merely glanced at him; she wasn't in the best of moods. Lisbon had dumped a whole load of paperwork on her from the previous days, and Jane's mightier-than-you behavior was getting on her nerves. "I think it would look nice on you. Care to try it on?"

His coy smile only served to tell her everything she needed to know, and it frustrated her more.

"I don't think that would be a good idea, Jane. It might give certain individuals ideas of grandeur." Jane shifted in his spot, with a smile still. "Give it to somebody special." She slid it across the table, which he caught and immediately slid back.

"You are special to me, Grace."

"You don't stop, do you?" She raised her eyebrow toward him, and he chuckled.

"Not at all; persistence is the name of the game, my dear." She stood from her seat. "You should at least try it on."

"Lisbon wouldn't appreciate it, and neither would Rigsby."

Jane beamed. "Lisbon won't know it came from me."

Van Pelt doubted that one. Jane just thought he got away with everything, when really Lisbon noticed every single thing he did.

"I can't, Jane." She answered truthfully. "It's absolutely beautiful, but wearing flashy things is not exactly appropriate for work."

"You don't think suspects would steal it, do you?"

She continued to glance at him. "Obviously! This," she picked up the jewelry box to wave it at him, "wasn't bought at the dollar store."

He frowned again. "Me? Buy something for you at the dollar store?" His frown broke into a playful smile, as he laughed. "Don't be silly; I'm not cheap." He shook his head, as if the idea was _truly _ridiculous, before he spoke again. "If you stare long enough, I might actually do a trick for you."

"Really?" she asked. "How about returning this as a trick." She set the box back down.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to accept gifts without argument, Van Pelt?"

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to buy expensive gifts for women who have absolutely no romantic interest in you?" She shot back, and he chuckled.

"Well played, Grace! You've managed to amuse me." She hesitantly rolled her eyes; Jane wasn't exactly stoic when it came to amusement, but she didn't want him to compare Lisbon and her again. It was just plain creepy. "However, your secret admirer has more interest in you than I do, alas."

Van Pelt grimaced. "Could you stop telling people I have one? Rigsby cornered me about it this morning."

"Why would I do that, Grace? You clearly have a secret admirer, who continues to show his or her affections for you. I'd milk it for what it's worth." He answered, with a large grin across his face.

"You're obviously kidding." She replied, and he leaned back in his chair to glance at her. "Milk my secret admirer? That sounds so…"

He continued to smile. "Dirty? Wrong?"

"Well, yes." She frowned. "It also sounds as if it falls on borderline sexual harassment." Jane shrugged.

"I'm just a partisan, giving advice to a damsel-in-distress."

She bit her lip—he_ did _have a point, even if he had just _technically _insulted her again! If he wanted her to say yes so badly, he would listen and obey her every whimsical command.

"Jane, I can't do that." She informed him, and he glanced back down at his turquoise teacup.

"Of course you can!" He cheerfully answered. "It was you who snuck into Lisbon's office, after all!" She threw him a dark glare. "So," he continued after a lull in the conversation. "You can do this."

She opened her mouth to argue with him, when he continued. "Besides, today isn't over and your secret admirer has yet to strike!" He winked, and she grimaced again. "Oh, come on, Grace. Most people would kill to be in your position."

"If the person likes bizarre love triangles and soap opera plots, then sure!" She informed him, as he continued to smile.

(Personally, she _enjoyed _soap operas—she was a sucker for romance, after all—but she didn't want her life or career to become one via the hands of Patrick Jane.)

"No, thank you, and you can_ once again _tell my admirer that." She pulled back from the table, when Jane slid something across the table to her.

It was a rather large manila envelope.

"Please tell me you aren't trying to blackmail me into anything." She snatched the envelope off the table, and he frowned.

"Why does everybody think I resort to blackmail?"

She paused in opening the envelope to glance at him. "You blackmailed Rigsby, while he and I were dating!"

Jane waved it off. "Meh, semantics. I wouldn't dare blackmail you, Grace. Rigsby, on the other hand, is fun to mess with."

She ignored him as she slid out whatever Jane had stuffed in the large envelope. It was obviously a thick stack of papers, but it had nothing to do with her or Rigsby. In fact, as she inspected the words closer, she noticed that it was the divorce papers—signed by both Jane and Lisbon. "Jane?" He made a slight 'hm', and she continued. "Why did you give me your divorce papers?"

"Why would I give you my divorce papers?"

He was either toying with her or being dead serious, but the look on his face told her it was the former.

"Oh, I don't know." She responded, dryly. "To show me that you are truly single now or you are hoping that I will burn them."

"I had no idea you were such a pyromaniac, Van Pelt." Jane responded. "I'm sure that the papers would make for an_ excellent _s'more."

She groaned silently. "I didn't need, nor did I want, to see your divorce papers, Jane—because they_ aren't _going to change my mind."

"Maybe I gave them to you to prove a different point." He answered, and she raised her eyebrow in suspicion. "Or maybe," he chuckled. "I gave them to you to burn—you are a natural redhead, after all, so it's only natural that you enjoy fire and burning things down."

"Firstly, I'm _not _going to burn your divorce papers! I've never been divorced before, but I'm sure you're going to need them for something else! And secondly, Jane, just because I'm a 'natural' redhead, does not mean that I like to 'burn things down'." She scoffed. "Where do you get this logic?"

He shrugged. "I've never been divorced either, so no hard feelings! However, I have a feeling that good ole' Walter is probably having everything expedited…as he knows everything there is to know about being divorced."

And just like that, their conversation went from slightly normal to completely awkward. Van Pelt could see the man was suffering—she just_ knew _he hated losing her to Mashburn—but she couldn't bring herself to offer any additional sympathy, besides a simple smile and one sentence.

"Give it a month, and if you still feel like burning these papers, we will."

Jane didn't reply, but the smile on his face told her everything and more.

"But my answer is still no."


	3. Payback Pt 2

**Title: **he always gets what he wants

**Disclaimer: **No.

**Note: **

I can't promise timely updates right now, thanks to the insanity of real life—but I can promise that this story will be completely posted by the end of next week.

To my highly opinionated (yet appreciated) anon: I _do _realize that there hasn't been much of a plot yet, but what can you expect? We're only two chapters in. I understand your frustration, and I'm sorry you feel the way you do—but anyway, thank you for leaving me a review—I do appreciate it.

To all my other reviewers: thank you, you all are quite lovely.

* * *

><p><strong>2: Payback (Pt. 2) <strong>

_Thursday_

"Has anybody seen Jane?" Lisbon asked as Van Pelt continued to focus on the slow workings of her computer's diagnostic scan.

"No," Cho answered.

"Haven't seen him since yesterday, boss." Rigsby chimed in. "Did he come into work today?" Lisbon was quiet, which meant the woman had indicated yes, no, or I don't know with a tilt of her head. "Have you checked the upstairs?"

"Do you honestly think I wouldn't try upstairs first?" Lisbon asked, scornfully. "Van Pelt?"

She glanced up from her computer to stare at Lisbon, "Yes, boss?"

"Have you seen Jane?"

"Early this morning," she couldn't exactly lie—the man _had _been lingering around her desk when she had entered the bullpen that morning.

"What was he doing? Did he say where he was going or where he would be?"

"He was just standing, and no, boss—Jane didn't tell me where he was going."

She had asked him what he was doing, and the man had simply run off from her computer with a large grin on his face—a grin, that incidentally had caused her to run a diagnostic scan.

Lisbon sighed. "Let me try his cell phone again." The boss dialed Jane's number and held her phone to her ear when Van Pelt's phone suddenly vibrated on her desk. She quickly pulled it off her desk to find Jane had sent her a text message.

Jane:

**Tell Lisbon 2 stop blowing up my phone. Nobody is dying, r they?**

Jane's way of texting slightly irritated her, but she ignored it in favor of the still-fuming boss.

"Damn it!" Lisbon cursed. "He's not answering!"

She cleared her throat, and Lisbon's attention was shifted to her. She suddenly felt awkward. "Boss…Jane…he just sent me a message." Lisbon nodded. "He told me to tell you to stop blowing up his phone, and he asked if anybody is dying." Lisbon narrowed her eyes.

"Tell him to answer his phone." She nodded and glanced down at her iPhone to reply back to Jane.

**Lisbon wants you to answer your phone. **

he didn't even have to wait too long for a response, which meant he had probably been expecting a question along those lines, or _at least _a response like that.

Jane:

**I took a half-day. I don't listen to the WO-man, Grace. ;)**

She glanced up at Lisbon, when her phone vibrated again.

Jane:

**I know u hate txt speak, but ur surprise is on its way. U will love it, I know!**

She would have sighed if everybody within her unit wasn't completely focused on her.

"What did he say?"

"He said he took a half-day." Lisbon frowned in deep thought (so she didn't think it was a very good idea to tell the boss what had been said after the half-day remark), but was there something wrong with Jane needing any type of a vacation? Once upon a time, she admitted to herself, there probably would have been something wrong with that (as a missing Jane foretold bad things), but now…it just meant the man was probably off having fun somewhere.

"The man doesn't _take_ half-days!" Lisbon cried in aspiration. "We go over this _every _time he takes off."

Van Pelt bit her lip. "Jane seemed pretty down yesterday, boss." Lisbon paused to glance at her, and the woman frowned.

"We all have our down days, but that doesn't mean he can just leave without telling anybody! I'm his boss after all!"

While Lisbon continued to rant, she quickly typed out a response to the consultant.

**Lisbon isn't very happy right now, Jane. **

Her phone vibrated seconds later.

Jane:

**Tell her I'm in post-divorce counseling. ;)**

Did he _want _Lisbon to kill them both? She couldn't just tell the boss that!

"What is he saying now?" She jerked her head up to glance at the boss, and she knew she was blushing from how Lisbon raised her eyebrow. "It can't be that bad." Instead of saying anything, she simply held her phone up to her boss, who glanced at the screen.

"I'm sorry, boss."

Lisbon pulled away, and gave a tight nod. "Tell him we'll talk later."

Her phone vibrated again, and she glanced at it.

Jane:

**On a scale of 1-10, how angry is she?**

Van Pelt didn't even hesitate to send him back a response.

**A twenty, Jane. A twenty.**

She glanced back from her phone to find Lisbon gone, and both Cho and Rigsby staring at her.

"What?" She asked.

"What did Jane say to the boss?" Rigsby questioned, softly. "She didn't look too happy about it." Van Pelt merely shook her head.

"It's between her and Jane, Wayne."

"Jane told you it! I'm sure you can share it with us! Come on!" Rigsby pleaded, and she shook her head. It was about her co-workers' social lives, and she doubted Lisbon would appreciate any more rumors getting out about her and Jane.

Her phone vibrated again, and she glanced at it.

Jane:

**She's blowing up my phone.**

She rolled her eyes. He couldn't be _that _thick, could he? If she had read that message out loud, the entire bureau would have had proof of the divorce within mere minutes. Lisbon had every right to be angry with him.

**Of course she's angry! You almost outed the divorce to the entire bureau. Why wouldn't she be angry?**

Jane:

**Grace, Walter is eventually going to show up and show off his new girlfriend. I'm just helping them along. :D**

She scowled in return.

**How is that helping? You're not helping, you jerk.**

**/b/c**Jane:

**I didn't know you felt so strongly about it, Grace.**

She didn't hesitate to respond.

**When you're screwing around with personal and professional lives, I do!**

Jane:

**Fine. I'll call her. :p**

**Thank you, Jane. **

She glanced up from her phone to stare at Cho and Rigsby. "He plans on making amends."

"I hope it doesn't involve us trying to take an animal into the CBI again." Rigsby sighed. "I get that he needs to say sorry, or make up for a missed anniversary, or something…after all, it's happened to us all…" He glanced at them, as if he was really expecting them to agree with him.

"You and Jane are alone on this one." Cho responded. "I remember things."

"I'm sure you remember everything." She responded, and Cho glanced at her.

"I don't forget important dates." He replied. "Rigsby does."

Rigsby threw an annoyed glare at Cho. "Do you think Jane forgot an important date?"

Van Pelt sighed in exasperation; she knew Rigsby didn't know, but really—was it that hard to see? (Secretly she also knew that if Jane had never told her, she would have never known. Both of them hid the divorce extremely well, and unless you knew what to look for…it could have stayed hidden for an extremely long time). She cleared her throat. "It's Jane, so who knows."

Luckily, they left it at that, and she glanced back down at her phone.

**No New Messages**

This, to her, was a good thing. Jane hadn't sent her another text asking "How angry is she?", which was a "game" they often played after the man had screwed himself over, figuratively. One thing was for certain, she thought with a shake of the head: Jane was a drama king.

When Lisbon remerged from her office and stood before them an hour later, she looked much happier (but whether that was from Jane or Mashburn, Van Pelt had no idea). The boss glanced at them all before she addressed them.

"Audits are finished."

Rigsby made a sound, and Lisbon's lips twitched.

"However, our case load isn't."

"Can't murderers take vacations?" Rigsby asked.

"No." Cho cut in. "It's Murphy's law."

Lisbon cracked a small smile. "If murderers took vacations, we wouldn't have jobs." Everybody nodded in agreement. "Since Jane isn't here—and won't be here for the rest of the day—we can get some serious police work done." Nobody questioned her on where he was, which Van Pelt thought was extremely wise. "Rigsby, how is the…?"

Somebody cleared their throat behind her, interrupting Lisbon's orders.

"Yes, officer?"

Clearly, the woman was annoyed at the interruption.

"Agent Lisbon, I'm sorry for interrupting, but…Agent Van Pelt is needed in the main atrium."

Main atrium? Nothing important was down there, besides the welcome desk and a few metal detectors! She turned in her desk chair to survey the male officer.

"Why?" She asked.

"There's a situation, and…" the officer paused, clearly nervous from the way his eyes shifted around the bullpen. "…the situation is for you."

"I'm sure somebody can handle it." Lisbon replied, and the officer shook his head.

"No, ma'am. I have specific orders for Agent Van Pelt to assist us."

Lisbon sighed. "Fine then. Van Pelt." She nodded, and started for her gun when the officer shook his head.

"You won't need that, Agent."

If she didn't need her gun, then what did they need her for? She glanced quickly at Lisbon, who had her attention focused on Cho and Rigsby. Slowly, she rose from her chair to follow the officer down into the atrium.

Van Pelt wanted to ask exactly what the situation was, but the officer seemed skittish.

(Actually, the further away from the bullpen they were, the less tense he became, so there _was _something about the Serious Crimes Unit that made him nervous.)

"When I said situation, Agent Van Pelt…I didn't mean a situation-situation." He addressed her. "We can take care of those, but there's something at the main desk for you, and well…we're not really sure how to handle it."

She didn't say anything, but she fumed inside; Jane was obviously behind this situation.

They pushed through the main doors to the atrium, and she heard the sound of something barking.

"I didn't think we had a K9 Unit." She remarked, and the officer (who once again didn't turn to face her) spoke.

"We don't."

"Then, why…?" She was confused—were they _seriously _calling her down to deal with a harmless dog? Protocol for these types of situations involved calling animal control, _not _calling an agent from a homicide unit!

"That's your situation, Agent." The officer led her to the main desk where one of the other officers stood with a red leash in his hand; she then noticed that there was a small, _very _animated dog attached to the end of said leash, who eyed her curiously.

"We were told this," he held the leash out to her, which she gingerly took, "belonged to you."

Van Pelt shook her head. "I don't own a dog."

The once leash-holding officer shrugged. "There was also a letter given to us for you." He pulled that from his pocket, which she quickly took and opened.

_Grace_, it read.

_Her name is Ziege. She reminds me of you. :)_

_Your Secret Admirer_

She glanced up the letter with a grimace—had Jane just unintentionally insulted her again? Didn't he _ever _learn that one could catch more flies with honey than vinegar?

The dog yipped loudly, and Van Pelt glanced down at the russet-furred Pomeranian, who seemed to be smiling at her.

"Hi?" She awkwardly greeted the dog, which immediately placed its front legs on her legs. The dog _was _cute, but what in the world was Jane thinking? He couldn't go around buying dogs for people! Her landlord wouldn't be happy if she brought an animal into her apartment!

She turned to the slightly puzzled officers with a tight smile. "Can somebody hold this leash for me? I'll be right back." One of the other officers nodded, and she handed over the leash. "Thank you." She then spun on her heels, and pulled out her phone; briefly, she wondered how she should go about talking to him.

Texting him would probably get her nowhere besides frustrated at his delirious shorthand, and he wouldn't be able to see how irritated she was, so she settled for a nice little call.

She ducked out of sight, and pressed her phone to her ear.

It rang twice before Jane answered.

"Grace! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"You bought me a dog."

"Why, yes, I did! What gave that away?" Jane dryly asked. "Was it the note, or the fact that you now have a russet-furred Pomeranian sitting at the CBI?"

"Are you trying to make me upset?" She asked, and she heard him sigh. "Jane! I don't think my landlord will appreciate a dog!"

"Your landlord, Ashleigh, is completely fine with you having a dog—provided that you pay the monthly fee, which I covered for you." Jane answered, and she furrowed her brows. She had never even brought Jane to her apartment; she hadn't even told him where she lived! Her silence must have given the man some notion of what she was thinking, for he continued to speak. "Don't tell Lisbon this, as I'm sure she'll go on and on about the abuse of power, and how off-limits this is—but I've read all of the unit's employee files. I know where you all live."

"Those files are off-limits for a reason!" They weren't allowed to read each other's files for a reason, mainly because some of the materials in those files were quite sensitive—such as their performance rating on the field, and comments left behind by previous and current bosses. In fact, the material was so sensitive that she had never even seen the comments left about her.

"Yes, that's what I keep hearing." Jane answered, with a chuckle. "Do you know what Minelli said about me?" He paused, and she wasn't sure if she was supposed to answer or something. "He said I was a menace. _A menace_, Grace! I don't think I'm that bad."

"To each his or her own, Jane." Personally, though she wouldn't ever tell him this, she thought he was way worse than a menace.

"Do you want to know what they say about you?" He curiously asked, and she blinked. "Minelli, Lisbon, and Hightower have all left comments!"

"Maybe later?" She offered, because she doubted Lisbon would be too thrilled if she knew that Jane had given her classified information.

"Honestly, Grace! You don't think I would buy you something just so you have to get rid of it, do you?"

She bit her lip. Jane was Jane, and something like that was right up his alley of evil plots and manipulations.

"Why?" She asked. "Why did you buy me a dog?"

He chuckled. "I thought it was obvious."

"If I don't know what it is, it's obviously not obvious." She retorted.

"No need to get testy, Grace." He baited, and she softly groaned. "I bought you a dog, because you've always secretly wanted one."

"No, I haven't!" She argued.

"Sure you have!" He challenged. "You've wanted one since you lost Craig, and found out that you couldn't handle being with Rigsby."

She was glad nobody was around, for she felt her face grow warm, but whether that was from Jane's accusation or mention _him_, she had no idea.

"Where do you get such crackpot theories?"

"From you, Grace." He explained. "It's been three years, and you haven't tried to move on." Van Pelt frowned. "I'm trying to help you, by getting you to help me." He paused. "Unless you want to be alone for the rest of your life."

He was _really _pushing at buttons, wasn't he? Van Pelt had an odd feeling that Jane knew that she and Rigsby had attempted a second chance at the whole romance thing last year, but ultimately, it failed before it had ever begun. And it failed because of her.

While Jane and Lisbon had been off pursuing their own secret relationship (which to everybody but Cho was a complete surprise when they had finally admitted it), she had decided to test the dating waters again, after a year and a half of no dating, by giving Rigsby a second chance. Van Pelt found that every time he had tried to kiss her, or hug her, she'd recoil for no other good reason besides her saying: "we can't do this". Eventually, her therapist had gotten her to admit—out loud—that ever since Dan and Craig, she was afraid of being manipulated, fooled, or used into hurting her second family at the bureau.

Shortly after that, she had ended the relationship, and though Rigsby claimed there were no hard feelings, she knew he still had romantic feelings for her that she could never return.

"Grace?" Jane called.

"Huh?" She asked, and Jane chuckled.

"Don't think so hard. It's giving me a headache." She didn't say anything. "I'm sure you're dying to ask me about your dog's name!"

"Not really…" she trailed off.

"I'll tell you anyway!"

"Of course you will; why do I even say anything to your questions?"

He ignored her comment, "I had just bought Ziege, and we were in my car. She had been quiet so far, and I had started speaking to her about you." She could hear the grin in his voice. "Anyway, she didn't make one sound in response to me, and I wondered if something was wrong with her—even though her previous owner said she was a healthy and happy dog—then, off to the side of the road were a random bunch of goats."

"Goats?" She questioned, her voice rising slightly. "You named a dog after goats?" Jane's logic behind these things made no sense; a dog's name shouldn't be goat!

"I haven't finished my story yet, Grace!" Jane answered. "As I was saying, we drove past the goats when Ziege began to loudly bark. I decided to name her goat, but I thought Goat the Dog was an identity crisis waiting to happen!

"I then decided to use my knowledge of all things linguistic to find a name for her meaning goat. Unfortunately, most of the names for goat use Capricorn."

"Capricorn is a goat, Jane." She informed him.

"If you believe in astrology, my dear." Jane chided. "Astrology does nothing more than give false hopes and is a fake science generalized by newspaper articles with bad rhyming."

"I believe in astrology, Jane!" Van Pelt bristled. He just couldn't stop insulting her, could he? "It's not a fake science! It's a…"

"Yes, yes, Grace. It's a valuable thing." He playfully mocked, and she grimaced. "I could have easily chosen Gabra, Hircus, Caper, Capra, Ziege or Koza…but I tried to imagine you calling them out." He cleared his throat. "'Here, Caper' doesn't sound _nearly _as appealing as 'here, Ziege' does!"

"Well, what language is it?"

"German," he responded brightly.

Once again, she chose to remain silent.

"Anything else you want to know?"

"Yes!" She cried, as the thought suddenly hit her. "Where am I supposed to keep her during work? I can't leave her down here."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out." He replied with a chuckle, and she opened her mouth to say something in response, but the phone line went silent.

"Hello?" She asked, and when he didn't respond, she pulled her phone away from her ear to find that Jane had disconnected the call.

It was _just _like him to bring her a gift and not come up with a solution for her, and it probably would have frustrated her if she weren't worried about how Lisbon would take having the Pomeranian in the bullpen.

Her phone suddenly vibrated, and she glanced down to find a new message from Jane.

Jane:

**All the materials you need for Ziege are in your apartment. Will you go on a date with me now? :)**

She didn't even bother responding; his text message just served as a reminder that she needed to change her locks...again.

**X.X.X**

"Van Pelt?" Lisbon asked as she strolled back into the bullpen with the yipping dog following behind. "Is that a dog?"

"Yes, boss."

Obviously there was no hiding that she had a dog, even though, while she was returning to the bullpen, she had tried to think of how to hide the Pomeranian…but it was kind of impossible to hide a dog on her person, especially to Lisbon.

"What is it doing here?"

"Somebody bought it for me." Lisbon peered at the happy Pomeranian. "I didn't know where else to bring it, boss."

Lisbon nodded, "For now, she can…"

"Ziege." Lisbon frowned, and Van Pelt wondered if the German meant anything to the woman. However, if it did, Lisbon said nothing.

"…Ziege can go on Jane's couch." The sly smile from the boss had the entire unit (even Cho) cracking a smile. Jane was tolerant of other people on his couch, but having a dog on his couch would probably set the man off.

Quickly, Van Pelt looped the leash around Jane's desk chair and picked up Ziege (who barked happily) before being placed back down on Jane's couch, where she sniffed and sneezed.

Lisbon chuckled. "Your dog must be allergic to Jane's bull crap too."

The entire Serious Crimes Unit laughed.

_Friday_

"Why does my couch smell like wet dog?" Jane asked her after he had settled down on his couch. Van Pelt merely shrugged, hiding her snigger. "You didn't put Ziege on my couch, did you?"

"What if I did?"

Jane pulled a face. "Lisbon!" The man wailed, and the boss hurried from her office to find Jane.

"What?"

"There was a dog on _my _couch! I demand you clean my couch!" Jane argued. "It smells like wet dog!"

"How is that my problem?" She asked him, before she took a sniff. "It could just be your cologne."

"I'll have you know, Lisbon, that my cologne smells better than _wet dog_." He continued. "I'm not sitting here until somebody cleans my couch! I think I'll just go to your couch!" He started to move away from the couch when Lisbon threw up her arm to stop him.

"You're not sleeping on my couch—you smell _horrible_." Lisbon ribbed, and he frowned. "Wet dog on leather is a fine scent, all right?" Jane didn't reply, and though she felt strange wondering, Van Pelt wondered how in the world the two had managed to live with each other for a year without killing or committing the other.

He frowned, and she sighed. "Sit in your desk chair, okay?"

"No." He pouted. "I want _my _couch—it's my _thinking _couch, for a reason. That chair is not even _close _to being half the furniture my couch is." The man was seriously throwing a tantrum about a couch? The maturity level of Patrick Jane was truly astonishing.

"It's just a couch, Jane." Lisbon explained.

He scoffed. "You're just a couch."

Lisbon turned to her, clearly exasperated. "Van Pelt, go get the Lemon-Scented spray from the kitchenette?" She nodded and followed the instructions given to her. "Thank you." Lisbon answered as she took the can and stood over Jane's couch.

"I don't like lemon either!" He whined. "Why can't I sleep in your office?"

"Because when you're in there, I can't get any work done." She relayed before she began to spray down his couch. When she finished, she turned to him. "There."

He sniffed, and pulled yet another face in disgust. "I'm not laying there! It smells like wet dog that rolled around in a puddle of lemon juice." Lisbon turned back to couch, and then surprised him by turning slightly and spraying him down with the lemon-scented freshener.

Lisbon sniffed the air playfully. "Much better." She left them, and Jane frowned again.

"You're paying my dry cleaner's bill, Lisbon!" Jane turned to her, and pointed at his vested stomach, where there was a large spot. "I don't want to smell like lemons! It might let people know I'm coming."

She almost laughed—of course, he wanted the utmost element of surprise.

"You can't even smell it," she replied, and he shook his head.

"Lisbon is doing this because she's angry with me." He vented.

"Well, what did you do to her?" She asked.

"What makes you think I did anything?" She didn't say a word, and he continued. "Giving me my own rope to hang myself, are we?"

"It's obvious you did something." She argued, and Jane beamed.

"I told her I had engaged myself a romantic interest in the most beautiful woman." Jane answered, and she raised her eyebrow. "But it could have also been that I played a little late-night joke on Walter last night."

"What happened?"

"If I told you," Jane replied darkly. "Lisbon would kill and/or dismember me. And what good am I to this unit dead or dismembered?"

"As long as you engage that romantic interest elsewhere, you will never find an answer to your question." She tried to threaten him, but it just made him grin even larger.

He chuckled. "But Grace, I've already found her! She just needs to say yes!" Jane stepped closer to her desk, and she tried to roll away from him. "Come on, say yes. Otherwise, I need to find somebody else and none of them are very intelligent…" He paused. "I guess I could date Madeleine—you remember her, right?"

"No, Jane." Van Pelt replied, dryly. "I don't remember my old boss." Jane chuckled again, and she briefly wondered if a pseudo-relationship would work out between them.

His age was something her mom would _never _approve of, but it wasn't like they would ever have to meet—Jane just wanted to _date _her, not marry her...right?

"Let me take you on one date; if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out!" Jane pleaded. "What's the worst thing that could happen?"

"We lose our jobs."

"Oh, Van Pelt." Jane was amused by the prospect of them being out of a job? He probably had millions of dollars tucked away, but she had absolutely _nothing _to her name. "Always the optimist, aren't you? Lisbon won't fire us; it'd be way too catty for her." He beamed. "Mental warfare is her technique."

Van Pelt sighed; if she agreed to this so-called "date", she was putting her career and the tentative friendship she had formed with Lisbon in jeopardy, but she was _also _helping out a good friend, who could possibly help her in return.

If she said no, Jane would _never _leave her alone. He'd be like her constant nightmare. Her shadow.

She glanced up from his hopeful face, and she sighed—he wasn't what she wanted to see every morning, but she _definitely _didn't want the man haunting her because she said no.

"Fine." She replied. "One date."

Jane grinned, and clapped his hands together. "You won't regret this, Grace! I promise."

Oh, she was sure she would regret it. She was sure they both would, but instead of saying a word, she smiled and went back to her work for the day.


	4. Firsts

**Title: **he always gets what he wants

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, no.

**Notes: **

Thank you to all my lovely reviewers, readers and alerters. You all really do know how to make me smile. :D

Anyway, shall we get into some more Jane hijinks?

Yes, let's!

* * *

><p><strong>3: Firsts<strong>

The Tuesday following her answer to Jane, Van Pelt stood before her full-length mirror, staring intensively at her reflection and mentally preparing herself for her date.

She didn't want to give him the impression that she had gussied up for him, but she also hadn't wanted to look like she had just gotten off work, either. So, the dress she was silently debating on was a strapless, sapphire blue, mid-calf-length dress. Jane had told her formal wear, and the dress wasn't only formal, but it was also comfortable and one of her favorite dresses to wear.

Her hair, on the other hand, she had decided to curl into mini ringlets that set against her skin. She didn't think her current attire choice gave Jane any ideas, but one truly never knew what went on in his head.

Ziege barked from her spot in the living room, and she inhaled slowly before somebody knocked on her front door, and she tensed. She wasn't ready for any of this—maybe she could just run! She spun from her mirror and turned to her window when a voice behind her spoke.

"You're not trying to run, are you, Grace?" Jane asked from behind, and she turned to stare at him.

"How did you get in here? My door is locked!"

Jane gave her an impish grin. "Your door was unlocked."

"No, it wasn't!" She argued. "You broke in!"

"…just in time to save you from jumping out a four-story-building window." Jane reasoned. "I don't think Lisbon would appreciate a call from me saying you'd jumped out a window to escape me."

"I wasn't going to jump!" She defended. "I needed fresh air!"

Jane merely shook his head, but didn't say anything else regarding her apparent window-jumping skills. "You look lovely tonight, Grace." She felt her face heat up, and he chuckled. "How do I clean up?"

Jane, she suddenly noticed, wore yet another three-piece suit, but it didn't really surprise her—the man had, after all, worn a three-piece suit on his wedding day with Lisbon.

"You look nice, Jane." He tsked, and she glanced at him. "What?"

"Grace, we're not in the office, _and _we're dating—my name is Patrick. Can you say that? Pah-trick."

She softly laughed. "I know your name, Ja…" He raised his eyebrow with a small smile. "Patrick." She corrected.

"I know it's slightly strange…"

"You have no idea."

Jane merely smiled. "Shall we go on our date? I have us reservations at Chez Whitney. I hope that's all right with you?"

Van Pelt gaped at him; Chez Whitney was one of the most exclusive restaurants outside the Sacramento area. From her personal knowledge, it took not only big money to have (and keep) a reservation there, but a big name to match as well. "You look surprised. Do you not like Italian? We can always…"

"Jane!" He gave her a glance, but she ignored it. "It takes months to get in there! How…?"

He smiled shyly. "I have my ways, Grace."

As he escorted her from her apartment with his hand on her elbow, she almost asked if those ways involved anything Lisbon wouldn't approve of, but Jane was right—this wasn't work.

This was a date, and work wasn't meant to be discussed on one of those.

**X.X.X**

"Welcome to Chez Whitney; I presume you have reservations?" The host greeted them as soon as she and Jane entered the fancy restaurant. Van Pelt couldn't even believe her eyes at the sheer beauty of the interior décor. It seemed, at least to her, that every wall space was occupied by a priceless photograph or painting.

"Yes, the reservations are under the name of Dixon."

"Dixon?" Van Pelt questioned in confusion. "Your…"

"Grace, dear." Jane interrupted her confession with a condescending tone, as the host stared on in boredom. "Did you forget my last name again? You silly girl."

The host still didn't seem very intrigued or interested in their little argument as he spoke again. "Yes, Mr. Dixon and Miss Evian." Jane nodded, and Van Pelt wondered why in the world her name would need to be changed. Nobody _knew_ about their date, and even if they did, what could they do? "If you both would follow me to your table, dinner will be served shortly." Jane nodded again and squeezed her elbow lightly before he brought her along behind the host, who stopped at a table in the center of the barely full dining room; the table was decorated with a white lace table cloth and white place settings. "I will be back shortly." Jane didn't say anything, but pulled out a chair for her to sit in instead.

"Thank you." She offered as she sat down.

Jane waved it off as he took his own seat. "I'm supposed to be all gentlemanly."

She slyly glanced around to find that everybody else seemed completely focused on their own conversations, so she chanced asking him a question. "Why aren't you going by Jane, and why aren't I going by Van Pelt?" Jane glanced up at her from folding the napkin across his lap.

"Haven't you ever wanted to be somebody else, Grace?" He asked as the host came back to their table and handed over two menus. Jane gave a nod toward the host before he focused his attention back on her. "You can order anything you'd like. Personally, I think I'll start with a salad."

"What are you up to?"

He glanced up over his menu at her. "I'm reading a menu, what does it look like I'm doing?"

Van Pelt pursed her lips. "You know what I mean, the entire Dixon thing."

"We're not even thirty minutes into our date, and you're already suspicious of me?" Jane asked with a chuckle, and she glanced at him. "Lisbon was suspicious of me not even a _minute_ into the date and I had just taken her out for seafood." He shrugged. "I don't _think_ it was because of me, but I think it was because of those lobsters." He lifted one of his hands, and made a lobster claw motion to which she laughed. "I tried to tell the waiter to give us a different table without the view of the lobster tank, but apparently he didn't think my argument about the lobsters was valid enough." Van Pelt doubted the lobsters were what made Lisbon suspicious, even if it felt unnatural having their eyes on you while you were eating them. "Before you ask, Lisbon and I never ate at a restaurant this fancy. I think you've noticed by now that she doesn't enjoy flashy."

She was confused; Walter Mashburn was all _kinds_ of flashy. In fact, the man was the dictionary definition of the word. "Why is she…?"

Jane shrugged as the host started back toward their table. "It's a mystery not even somebody like me could solve."

She bit her lip in thought and opened her menu to order. She had almost decided on a dish when a very familiar voice spoke from behind her.

"Patrick! I didn't expect you of all people to be here tonight!" Van Pelt turned in her seat slightly to find Walter Mashburn, who was dressed to impress and had a large smile on his face.

"Oh, you know me, Walter." Jane greeted him with ease. "I had to treat this beautiful lady to fine dining." He lowered his voice, which she assumed was for effect. "Fast food and lobster won't do for us."

Mashburn continued to grin before glancing down at her. "You have very good taste in women, Patrick. Hopefully she works out for you better than Teresa did." The billionaire gained an odd, dazed-like expression on his face, which she hoped wasn't an expression of love for Lisbon—if it was, she was going to have an even harder time trying to push Jane back to Lisbon and away from her.

"Speaking of Teresa," Jane conversationally stated. "Where is she?"

"Teresa had to step into the ladies' room."

Jane grinned, "She's probably trying to see if she can escape out a bathroom window."

Van Pelt threw him a dirty glare as Mashburn laughed. "It was nice seeing you, Patrick and his lovely date…but I need to get back to my table. If I don't, Teresa might believe I'm up to no good again." Jane glanced at the man before a giant grin overtook his face.

"Why don't you join us?" Jane asked, and Mashburn stared at him. "We have enough room, and I'm sure Grace wouldn't mind a little female presence at the table—right, dear?"

She gave a strained smile in response before she kicked him under the table.

"Ou-!" He cried, and Mashburn raised his eyebrow. "…about I pay for all four of us?"

"I couldn't honestly let you do that, Patrick." Mashburn, it seemed, didn't want to sit with them either, which suited her just fine. Besides, the last time she checked, it wasn't completely healthy to invite an ex-wife to sit with an ex-husband, while said ex-wife was on a date with some other guy that _wasn't_ the ex-husband. Van Pelt silently wondered if Jane had switched his name in case Lisbon had caught sight of the reservations list.

But the man wouldn't be _that_ sneaky, would he?

"I insist." Jane persisted, and Mashburn opened his mouth to reply when Lisbon's voice interrupted the conversation.

"Walter, we…" Lisbon stopped, mid-sentence, as if she were _really_ trying to process what her eyes were seeing before her. "Jane? _Van Pelt_? What are you both doing here?"

"They're on a date, Teresa." Mashburn explained.

If Van Pelt had a camera, she seriously would have captured Lisbon's facial expression, for the woman's eyes were wide in complete surprise.

"A date?" She eyed them in suspicion. "Since when do you _date_ Van Pelt, Jane?"

"Since we got here?" Jane relayed, and Van Pelt sighed.

Mashburn shot Jane an irritated look. "Patrick just invited us to dine at his table, Teresa—I told him no, unless you have a different answer."

Lisbon shook her head, shooting the odd couple a glance. "I'm fine with a no."

Mashburn glanced back at Jane, "The lady hath spoken."

Van Pelt glanced at Jane and cleared her throat. "I think I'm going to the ladies' room." Jane nodded, and Lisbon turned to Mashburn.

"I think I'll go with her."

Jane glanced at her. "Didn't you just go?"

Lisbon narrowed her eyes. "Not _all_ of us have bladders made of steel, Jane."

"I never said you did." He answered, before giving her a smile. "But yes, birds of a feather must flock together."

Van Pelt rose from her chair and stepped away from the dining table as Mashburn and Jane drew them into a conversation. Lisbon stood next to her, and both women continued to the bathroom. This was one of the _many_ conversations she didn't want to have with her boss, but as it seemed, Lisbon was perfectly content on saying nothing…and that made her even more nervous. She was entirely too focused on her own thoughts (and the impending conversation that was bound to happen sooner or later), that she didn't even notice that she was walking straight into somebody until it was too late.

"I'm so sorry!" She apologized to the brunette-haired person, who didn't even stop to acknowledge the apology. "Whoever that was, they must have been in a hurry."

Lisbon didn't nod, but the woman cleared her throat. "Do I want to know about you and Jane?" She _could_ lie and tell her boss that Jane had just invited her to invite her, but she _definitely_ wasn't telling the truth. The last thing she wanted was for Lisbon to get angry with her, because Jane had decided to use her as his leverage in the dating game.

"Well, boss." She started, as they continued walking down the seemingly endless hallway to the bathroom. "Jane noticed that I've been a little blue lately, and he just wanted to cheer me up. I tried telling him no, but you know how persuasive he is." Lisbon nodded. "I didn't mean to take him away from you for the night."

"It's really okay, Van Pelt." Lisbon responded, and the two women grew silent. It was slightly puzzling (to her, at least) that Lisbon had one of the most perfect windows of opportunity to tell her about the divorce, but the woman had chosen not to. However, it seemed as if the woman wasn't even going to explain why Mashburn was with her either, and if it weren't for the knowledge of their divorce, Van Pelt could have thought that Lisbon was having an affair with the man behind Jane's back.

(Of course, the thought was truly laughable—Jane knew pretty much _everything _and the idea of Lisbon having an affair behind Jane's back was completely ridiculous and against the woman's seemingly stainless, kick-ass moral character.)

Lisbon cleared her throat after a few more seconds of silence between them. "I'll see you tomorrow, Van Pelt—enjoy the rest of your evening, okay?" Lisbon turned on her heels and left Van Pelt standing mere inches away from the bathroom before she could even reply to the senior agent.

**X.X.X**

"I hope you had a good date." Jane told her as he walked her up to her apartment. She didn't say anything to him as she unlocked the door and let them in—in fact, after she had come back from the bathroom at the restaurant, she hadn't said a word to him. Dinner had been a somber event, even though he tried to make many jokes about the food, the waiters, and the guy sitting at the table adjacent to them. "Grace, I really had no idea that…"

"Yes, you did." She snapped at him as she flipped on the living room light and threw her purse down on one of the two couches. "I may not be Lisbon, but I have _at least_ enough intelligence to know that you didn't go by Jane, because you knew she'd be there tonight." He frowned.

"I'm a little hurt by your careless accusations right now…"

"If Lisbon found out about this, what do you think she'd say or do?"

"Sheep dip?" He offered helpfully, and she crossed her bare arms against her chest. "It's really complicated to say what Agent Lisbon _would_ do—after all, she's licensed to kill...literally."

She narrowed her eyes. "If Lisbon shot you, you'd deserve it right now."

"Now, Grace," Jane tried to soothe. "Don't you think that's a little harsh? After all, I only wanted to take us out for dinner. I…" She narrowed her eyes. It wasn't Jane's stupid little manipulation game that had angered her; it was the fact that he didn't inform her of his stupid little plan first! If they were going to "date", he couldn't hide things like _this_ from her and expect her to play along! "I _also_ figured out your little joke! Miss Evian? For the last time, I'm not naïve!"

"You're beating a dead horse with that one, my dear." Jane informed her with a chuckle, and she stepped closer to him as he plopped down on one of her two living room couches. If he wanted a dead horse, she'd give him a _dead_ consultant. "My little joke, as you call it, has been printed on water bottles for years. It just shows you how mark-like consumers truly are. You could drink water from a water faucet, and still be drinking the same water that goes into water bottles. Did you know that, Grace?"

She still wasn't amused.

"So, maybe I did know, but give me a little credit here—I never specifically told her we were on a date, or that we were dating."

"We will _never_ tell her that!" She chided in mortification. "It was bad enough that Lisbon asked about us tonight!"

"What'd you tell her?" Jane leaned back on her couch.

"That you were trying to cheer me up!" Jane continued to remain amused as he settled against her couch. "What? Why in the _world_ are you grinning? None of this is funny!"

"If we go on more dates…"

"More dates?" There was no _way_ she was going back out with him! She still stood by her earlier belief that Lisbon had caused some sort of brain trauma, and she was the only one paying for it.

"Of course, Grace. It's only natural that we do, after all..." Jane explained with a flourish of his hand. "I had a lovely time, aside from the glass of wine spilled in my lap." Even in her anger, she had enough decency to blush. "Tell me, was that on accident or was that on purpose?" She didn't say anything to him. "Ah, so it _was_ on purpose. Apparently, I bring out the bitch in Agent Grace Van Pelt."

"You don't bring out anything in me, Jane." She scoffed.

"Of _course_ I do." He explained with a coy smile. "You just don't see it yet, but let me reassure you, I think Rigsby will like what he sees."

She merely eyed him. "We're not dating."

"I know you and Rigsby aren't dating, because you're dating me." He told her, calmly. "I don't think you noticed this tonight in all your anger and teenage-like angst of what would happen if your _mother_ caught you out dating me, but Lisbon was absolutely miserable with Walter Mashburn." The man glanced down at the carpeted floor. "She _needs_ me, Grace, but she needs to learn from her silly mistake first."

"Jane," Van Pelt sighed, and he raised his head to stare at her. She knew she wasn't Jane, but she could just _see_ the pain swimming in his brilliant cornflower gaze. He had _really_ loved Lisbon, and whatever had broken them apart was slowly tearing him apart as well. "I'm not going to pretend I know what you're feeling, because I've never had a divorce. I've never even been married, as you know."

His eyes moved to her collarbone, and she knew he was staring at the engagement ring from Craig that she had looped around her neck for the evening out. She almost wanted to tell him why she had worn it out on their mock date, but his pain was much more important than hers was at that very moment. Her pain was an old wound, and his pain was still very fresh.

"But, if you feel _this_ strongly, maybe you should just tell her that." She advised quietly. "The boss doesn't read minds, Jane."

Jane shook his head. "Not until she realizes her horrible mistake, which she eventually will. I just need somebody to play along with me on this dating thing until that day." He continued to glance at her, and she didn't say anything. "Now, you know my reasons for wanting to date you. What do you say?"

What _could _she say? The consultant had literally poured his heart out to her on her couch and was asking for _her _help to win Lisbon back. She couldn't exactly say no, could she? She was a romantic at heart, and if she didn't help her friend, who would?

It was as if he could see the cogs turning in her head, for he lightly smiled in her direction. "You don't have to help me, Grace. I truly understand why you won't, really. What I'm asking you to do is selfish, and after all the problems I've given you over the past few years…" he stopped to laugh lightly. "It really isn't right." He stood from her couch and began to move toward her front door. "I'm sorry I ever asked you to try this. I just thought you could help me…"

He had his hand on the doorknob, and she closed her eyes. "Jane! Wait." She knew she would regret this, eventually…but the man was suffering, and who knew what he would do if he left her apartment in such a funk. "I'll help you, _but_…" she warned as he slowly turned around to face her in surprise. "…we do this on my terms. I don't want either of us overstepping our boundaries—personal _or _professional." He nodded. "I don't care what you say, Jane. Lisbon is pretty scary when she's angry, and I would like to keep my job. Got it?"

He nodded again. "I get you loud and clear, Grace." He paused to throw her one of his most brilliant (and heartwarming) smiles. "I don't think I will be able to thank you enough, truly…"

She shook her head in response. "I know you'd do the same for me, Jane."


	5. Truths

**Title: **he always gets what he wants

**Disclaimer: **Nope.

**Notes: **

Firstly, thank you to all my lovely reviewers, readers, and alerters for the positive feedback on the story! I seriously appreciate you all!

Secondly, this chapter _does _hold some Rigsby/Van Pelt—so, let's go ahead and continue to the story, shall we?

* * *

><p><strong>4: Truths<strong>

_Two weeks later…_

"Van Pelt, I need you in my office." Lisbon ordered as she swept by the kitchenette. Van Pelt glanced at Jane, who continued to glance down at his boiling tea kettle on the open flame.

"She knows." She muttered to Jane.

"How could she know, Grace?" Jane questioned as he continued to watch the flames. "Lisbon had no idea about you and Rigsby, so I doubt she knows about us." He glanced over at her. "You should tell her though, as what we're doing isn't breaking any of the rules."

"It doesn't mean she won't make my life harder in the office."

"Lisbon is a _mature _and _responsible _adult," Jane clarified. "You and I have been over this, Grace. There's nothing she can do to you without being hounded after by the head honcho himself."

"Are you sure?" She questioned again—it wasn't as if Lisbon was blind or anything, but the woman had seen them at the restaurant together and hadn't (besides the _one _question at the restaurant) said anything else about it.

"Yes, I am!" He repeated, cheerfully. "Now, go see Lisbon. We'll talk later." He stopped glancing at the tea kettle to press his lips against her forehead (which had been something he had been adamant about doing every single day thus far). She smiled awkwardly in response before she pulled away and headed in the direction of Lisbon's office.

"You wanted to see me, boss?" Lisbon leaned against the front of her desk.

"I did!" The boss exclaimed. "I have a question for you."

"Okay, boss…"

"It's about a rumor I keep hearing; I was hoping you could clear this up for me." Her stomach dropped. Jane said Lisbon had no idea! Had one of those gossiping women found out about their relationship, even though (as a part of their deal) he couldn't tell anybody? "Van Pelt, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, boss." She squeaked out in a lie. "Which rumor are you talking about?"

"I wasn't aware there was more than one." Lisbon answered with a sigh. "I wish people would send emails around here, because I just hear these things, and you're the only person who would probably know." Jane would know also, but then again, why would the woman ask a con-man who was also her ex-husband? "Anyway, is it true that…"

She nodded guiltily—if Lisbon caught her in a lie, the woman would be even angrier than usual. "It is, boss. He and I have been together for two weeks, but I promise it won't affect the dynamic within the team or my work ethic! I know I should have told you two weeks ago when you spotted us out, but…he and I weren't sure if it would work out or not."

Lisbon blinked. "What?"

"Jane and I. We're together, boss." She blurted. "He's wanted me to tell you, but I couldn't, and now that you're asking, and I'm such a horrible liar…"

Lisbon blinked again before she pursed her lips and crossed her arms against her chest. "I was asking about a change in how we'll start to log in to the system, Van Pelt. Not about your personal life. However, as you've yet _again _admitted to dating another co-worker…" Lisbon paused, and Van Pelt wished she could disappear or, at the very least, that the floor would open up and swallow her whole. "I want you to bring Jane in here, and the three of us are going to have a nice little chat."

"Yes, ma'am." She muttered, as she bowed her head in humiliation—this wasn't how this entire thing was supposed to have gone!

"Actually, let me get him myself." Lisbon left the room, and she wondered if she could escape before Lisbon returned with Jane in tow. Honestly, she would have _eventually _told Lisbon about their relationship, but she didn't want to do so when the woman had just delivered Jane the divorce papers not even three weeks ago.

The door to the office opened as Lisbon walked in, Jane following close behind.

"The cat is out of the bag?" Jane asked, and she nodded. "Don't look so horrified, Grace. I'm sure Lisbon just wants to have a friendly chat." He stepped over to the boss's couch and sat down before he pattered for her to join him. She slowly made her way to the white couch before Lisbon could say anything, and he took her hand as she sat down. "Lisbon," he addressed the dark-haired agent, who now remained seated behind her desk. "I see the office hasn't changed much from when I last saw it, although…I think the case dry erase board could use a little more creativity."

Lisbon said nothing.

"We could add a few colorful doodles of a meowing cat. I'm sure that would brighten this place up!"

Lisbon still said nothing.

"Boss," she carefully approached. "I'm…"

"Don't." Lisbon interrupted as she stood with her back against her desk again. "Both of you are adults, and a relationship of this kind isn't against the bureau rules. In fact, Jane is perfectly able to pursue and date whomever he desires from this unit—be it woman, or man."

"I told you!" Jane exclaimed with a bright smile. "Lisbon doesn't mind our relationship, and apparently, she doesn't mind if I'm gay either."

"I don't see why I would; there is absolutely nothing against agent and consultant sexual relationships…but Van Pelt?" She nodded in response. "Just a word of advice: whatever he is planning isn't going to work—I divorced him for a reason, and I don't plan on taking him back."

"Whatever do you mean, Lisbon?" He questioned, trying to sound as innocent as he possibly could. "Grace and I are in a dedicated relationship; I have no intentions…"

"You have no intentions?" Lisbon snorted. "Our entire marriage was one huge intention." The boss glanced back at her. "You can leave, Van Pelt."

She began to stand when Jane yanked her back down on the couch. The conversation made her feel uncomfortable, because it was all so personal…but a part of her wanted more information on why both of them had divorced.

"I said, Van Pelt can leave."

"I want her here. And I know you have something more to say on us dating, Lisbon."

"Of course I do!" Lisbon exclaimed, and Jane smiled. "However, this conversation is between just you and me."

"No conversation is ever truly private." Jane answered. "But, if you want to talk without my beautiful Grace around, we can." She blushed—he just never stopped with the compliments. "Grace, as much as I hate to see you leave…" He was really laying this one on thick, wasn't he? "Lisbon and I need to talk. I'll join you in the bullpen soon, okay?"

Van Pelt nodded, and she stood from the couch before she left Lisbon's office. Once outside, she knew Jane would tell her about the conversation, but it was Jane, and he lied...a lot (or, as he put it, he_ "_merely bent the truth").

"What the hell are you playing at?" Lisbon asked—though her voice was muted, Van Pelt could still hear the woman through the door. "You and Van Pelt?"

"It's not a strange concept, Lisbon." He informed her. "What did you think we were doing at Chez Whitney two weeks ago Tuesday? I can assure you that we didn't only taste the wine."

"Honestly? I thought you were crashing my date using Van Pelt, but I didn't believe her for a moment when she said you were cheering her up!" Lisbon paused. "You're entirely too selfish to waste your energy on making sure somebody else is perfectly happy."

Jane scoffed. "Lisbon, you aren't the only woman out there for me. I'm sure I've got better things to do than crash your dates with Walter, anyway."

Too bad the blinds were drawn—she would have guessed Jane was grinning, and Lisbon was rolling her eyes.

"I didn't even know you had feelings for Van Pelt, Jane."

"It was a sudden attraction, Lisbon." He replied. "Being around you for six years did nothing but reinforce how socially awkward toward women I was, but once we divorced, I knew Grace was the woman for me."

"And you aren't using her to get back at my dating Mashburn, are you?"

"Lisbon," Jane chided. "You've moved on, and so have I…but your questioning makes me wonder if you're jealous of the fair Grace."

"Me? Jealous? Of Van Pelt? Don't be absurd, Jane!"

"There's no need to tell such a blatant lie, Lisbon. I'm sure Walter is satisfying in his own…"

"Grace? What are you doing?" Rigsby's voice effectively put an end to her listening in on Jane and Lisbon's conversation, as she quickly stepped away from the office door.

"I was looking for…" she paused; the man knew she didn't wear contacts, she obviously hadn't lost any jewelry, and she didn't exactly need to see the boss again. "Never mind. I was just standing here, waiting for Jane."

Rigsby raised his eyebrow in return. "You and Jane have been together a lot lately, Grace."

She shrugged. "Jane and I are just friends." She wasn't exactly ready to come clean to Rigsby about the details of their relationship. He was probably better off not knowing, anyway. "You spend time with Cho…"

"There's a difference!" Rigsby blurted, and she blinked. "Jane's a guy, who has feelings! Married or not, he might get an idea involving you!"

She almost laughed. That ship had sailed, and it was already _long _gone.

"I'm sure I can handle myself, Wayne."

"I worry more about him than you."

The door to Lisbon's office opened, and Jane glanced at the both of them. "Rigsby! I take it Grace told you the good news?" Rigsby glanced at her as she glanced at Jane, who beamed at them both.

"Jane!" She hissed, and he glanced at her. "I'm sure Rigsby has something more important to do, right?" She shot Rigsby a glance, but the man shook his head.

"Paperwork is done. So, what's the good news?"

"We're…" She elbowed Jane in his side. "…Grace! There's no need for this type of manhandling." He slyly grinned, "Save it for the—"

"The good news isn't important, Wayne." She interrupted Jane, with a small strained smile on her face. "Jane just wants to cause problems."

"No, I don't!" He chimed back. "I'll have you know, Grace, I am _very _insulted that you would think and say that about your own _boyfriend_."

The bastard! Of all the ways to tell Rigsby, Jane just did it this way to cause office drama! The man _really _had issues when it came to childish drama! She was going to kill him.

Rigsby blinked. "Boyfriend?"

"Yes, Rigsby!" Jane beamed, and she threw him a dirty look. "Grace and I are boyfriend and girlfriend." Rigsby focused his attention back at her, and she cleared the dirty look off her face to give him a tight smile.

"Just because Lisbon knows doesn't mean you needed to tell the entire unit." She hissed toward Jane.

"It's true?" Rigsby continued to stare at her, and she hesitated.

"I wouldn't call what we technically are 'boyfriend and girlfriend'." She informed him.

"What do you mean by that, Grace?" Jane asked her. "We're two adults, and we've been on a date." Jane beamed, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "If that isn't a couple, I don't know what is."

Rigsby blinked again. "The both of you are pulling my leg, right? This is some elaborate prank, right?"

Jane nudged her shoulders, and she frowned. "I wish I could tell you it was, but it's not. Jane and I are dating."

"You and Jane?" Rigsby asked, admonished. "How? _When_…?"

"Oddly," Jane interrupted, "you and Lisbon seem to share the same thoughts."

"You're married! What are you thinking? Does Lisbon know?"

Rigsby drew himself to his full height, and Jane removed his arm from around her shoulder to throw up his hands up toward the man in defense.

"Whoa!" Jane cried in alarm. "Lisbon and I are no longer together. I'm single, and so is Grace. As adults, we've decided to try out our attraction for one another." Rigsby grimaced.

"Attraction? The last time I heard Grace talking about you, she had nothing good to say."

Jane glanced at her, with his hands still in front of him. "I thought you liked me."

She grimaced. "Stop antagonizing me. I'm not very happy with you at the moment." She frowned to prove her point, which only had Jane frowning.

"Grace?" Rigsby questioned, and she focused her attention back on him. "Can we talk?" Jane opened his mouth to say something when the man continued. "In private?" Rigsby shot a glare toward Jane, who continued to mock frown.

"Sure," she agreed, and she followed Rigsby from the bullpen, down a semi-crowded hallway, and into one of the various interrogation rooms. He drew the blinds before he spoke again.

"You and Jane? I don't even know where to start, Grace!" Rigsby ranted, and she knew he had a valid reason to at least rant at her. Besides, if Jane had sat through an entire figurative dressing down with Lisbon, the least she could do was listen to Rigsby and persuade him not to strangle Jane until she had. "Divorced or not, he's older and he probably has an agenda toward you! Why did you even _agree _to him?"

She opened her mouth to answer him in a white lie, "He asked, and I said yes."

"I didn't even know you were attracted to him!" Rigsby returned.

"Neither did I, trust me." She muttered—she wasn't attracted to the man, and she never would be either. Jane was a _great _man, but his heart belonged to a certain brunette senior agent…even if he was completely stubborn when it came to her.

"Huh?" Rigsby questioned.

"I said," she lied. "The attraction between us is none of your business."

Rigsby took a step closer to her, and she stepped back. "He's not hypnotizing you, is he?" Rigsby asked, and he hesitantly took a step closer to tap her on the shoulder.

Van Pelt rolled her eyes. "For crying out loud, Wayne! Jane hasn't hypnotized me!"

"You're not on drugs, then, are you?" He asked. "Jane didn't slip anything into your drink, did he?"

"Wayne!" She cried. "Why would he do that?"

"Jane's a cold, heartless bastard?" Rigsby offered, and she stifled a smile. "You don't know him like we do, Grace."

"I've been working with the man for _nearly _seven years," she informed him, slightly annoyed. Rigsby hadn't worked with Jane much longer than she had! "What couldn't I know about him? He's been tormenting me for six years, and I _guess _that turned into attraction."

"I just want to know you're happy, Grace." He moved closer to her again, until he had completely managed to block her escape by backing her into a corner. Rigsby was a little too close for comfort, and the way he stood over her looked as if he was trying to intimidate her into stepping down and admitting the relationship with Jane was a fluke. Of course, the relationship was a fluke, but Rigsby didn't need to know that. He slowly moved his hand up to cup her chin, before he lowered his lips to hers.

At first, she didn't respond to his soft and wet lips upon hers. The surprise of the gentle kiss had caught her completely off guard, to where Wayne had managed to maneuver his tongue past her lips. His tongue, she felt quickly, was reclaiming every square inch of her mouth with a gentle urgency—as if it was _really _his to own in the first place—but after a few moments, the gentle kiss became something completely different, and her own mouth was responding to his hunger.

She needed this. She _wanted _this. It had been _way _too long since a man had touched her like this, and it felt so good—yet it felt so wrong!

She was with Jane! Rigsby was _completely _out of line!

In anger, she ripped her lips away from his trembling pink ones and raised her hand to slap him across the face. Before she could however, he caught her wrist in his hand.

"You're making a mistake, Grace." He let her wrist go, and without a moment of hesitation, she hauled off and slapped him across the face. He slowly backed away from her, a red handprint standing out against his pale, white face.

"If you _ever _kiss me again…" Her voice trembled.

"I won't," he promised in a whisper. "I won't."

"I'm a big girl, Wayne." She told him, her voice still trembling. "I do have a gun, and I'm licensed by not only the CBI, but the state of California to use it and carry it on my person as well." He frowned, and opened his mouth when she cut him off. "I can handle myself; I know I've given you reasons to doubt that in the past, but you need to trust me and my judgment. Jane is a good guy."

"Your judgment was _way _off with Dan and O'Laughlin, Grace."

She flinched as if he had slapped her; she _knew _her mistakes, and she didn't need to be reminded of them every time she wanted to date somebody other than him. She wasn't a child, and she certainly wasn't naïve.

"Grace…" He began, and she threw out her hand to stop him from saying anything else, which he ignored. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"Don't." She quietly spoke. "I'm tired of everybody bringing up my mistakes, especially when worse mistakes have been made by _everybody _within in this unit." She paused to take a deep breath. "I shouldn't be defined by my actions, and I shouldn't have co-workers poking into _my _personal life to make sure I have chosen the right person to date. Everybody makes mistakes. Lisbon did with Jane, Jane did with the media and his family, and I made a mistake by allowing my love life to affect _my _career." Rigsby looked mildly shocked, and she honestly couldn't blame him, but she knew she couldn't just walk away angry with him. Swallowing her pride, she continued. "I'm sorry, that was…"

He shook his head, "It's like you said: _everybody _makes mistakes." She opened her mouth to say something to him, but she found that the words just wouldn't come and silently, she watched him leave with his shoulders hunched.

**X.X.X**

"He _kissed _you?" Jane asked as he plopped down on her couch. "I must say I'm really surprised, actually."

"Surprised?" She inquired in return. "Why would you be surprised? If you're my 'boyfriend', shouldn't you go defend my honor?"

"I think you defended your honor all on your own," Jane flashed his smile at her, and she shook her head in response. "He's going to have a handprint shaped bruise tomorrow, and mark my words, Lisbon _will _ask him about it."

"I doubt that." Van Pelt scoffed.

"Oh, she will. Somebody assaulted a member of her team, and _nobody _gets away with that." Jane explained calmly. "She _is _Mother Teresa, after all."

"You don't think she'll tell him who did it, do you?" She bit her lip nervously, and Jane shook his head.

"If he tells her, he'd have to tell the entire truth and he won't do that." Jane replied. "Why would he willingly out himself to Lisbon?"

"He wouldn't?" She asked.

"He wouldn't." He repeated before he explained further. "Even though Rigsby has a violent streak, he doesn't enjoy conflict. He also still cares about you, and doesn't want to get you into trouble. Also," Jane chuckled quietly. "He doesn't want to admit that a girl got the best of him, _even if _you are trained to kill."

"I still think you should go stand up to him."

"Let me think about that," he answered her, and placed his hand to his chin. "Hmmm…" Van Pelt nearly rolled her eyes at his drama queen performance. "I don't think so, Grace. Have you _seen _Rigsby? He'd kill me!" Jane paused. "In case you've forgotten, you all need me to solve cases. You all need me in perfect health, out of jail, and happy. If I stand up to Rigsby, two of the things on that list will not happen, and the next case you have, the murderer will slip away." She just glanced at him. "It's really simple, actually."

"He _kissed _me." She repeated, exasperated. "Doesn't that make you want to do something?"

"It does." Jane stated.

She eyed him, "and that would be…?"

"…It makes me want to drink tea, and then offer you some." He beamed. "Tea is good for the nerves, after all."

She groaned, "You're a horrible fake boyfriend, Jane."

"And you, my dear," he addressed her with a wink, "are a horrible fake girlfriend…but you don't hear me complaining, do you?" She didn't say anything, though _yes _was sitting on the tip of her tongue, but it was rather pointless to argue with the man, as he won every argument anyway. "If it makes you feel better, oh girlfriend of mine, I'll cook us dinner. We don't need any more takeout."

"Fine," she relented. "But, you're _still_ doing all the dishes."


	6. Doubles

**Title: **he always gets what he wants

**Disclaimer: **Nope.

**Notes:**

Once again, I very much appreciated all the lovely reviews and kind words! :) I know there _really _hasn't been much of a plot, but there will be the start of one next chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>5: Doubles<strong>

"We're going on a date tonight," Jane told her, as she stepped into the bullpen. "It's nowhere near as fancy as Chez Whitney, but formal wear is strongly encouraged. I'll even wear a tuxedo."

"Do you even _own _a tuxedo?" Van Pelt asked, while she placed gun and badge away into her desk. "Excluding our first date; in the past month that we've been dating, you've never once just _asked _me if I wanted to go on a date. Usually, you wait until I'm coming into the office and _then _you tell me we're going on a date."

He blinked. "Well, do you _want _to go on a date with me?"

"Not particularly." She teased, and he smirked.

"We have to celebrate our one month tonight, Grace." He explained. "I don't think I have to tell you why one month is an _extremely_ important milestone in the…"

"I _know_, Jane. You've been telling me for the past _week_, how important the one month anniversary is." Which, he had. Every time he had come over to her apartment, he dropped a hint about their one month and this, after hinting all week, was apparently the day he wanted to divulge none of his plans. Jane kept her in the dark most of the time, and he didn't seem to be too keen on changing that any time soon, either. "Will you ever tell me where we're going?"

"Why would I do that?" Jane asked her. "It takes the surprise and fun out of everything."

She shook her head. "If you're taking me to get married…"

"That's _next _month's anniversary present." He replied, and Van Pelt dropped the pencil she had been holding. "I hear Las Vegas can hitch us for cheap, and I've always wanted to be married with a goat as my witness."

"_Jane_!" She hissed. "We're not getting married! I _will _never go to Las Vegas with you."

(Thankfully, the bullpen wasn't that full and Rigsby wasn't around—the marriage comment probably wouldn't go over too well with him or anybody else on the unit for that matter.)

"I know we aren't." He responded with a chuckle. "But your reactions to the mere thought are too funny, and I couldn't resist." She turned to fix him with a glare. "Don't worry, Grace. I wouldn't even dare think about marriage now. It's too soon, and something tells me you wouldn't be too thrilled to wake up married to me—even if Las Vegas hitching posts are perfectly legal, and seen as a perfectly binding form of marriage."

"You've researched this a lot," she dryly stated. "Do I want to know why?"

"I already told you, Grace—telling you takes the surprise and fun out of everything." He slyly smiled. "I know you aren't one for major surprises, but humor me?"

"This isn't going to end up with one of us being arrested is it?"

"Have faith in me, Grace." Jane answered. "When have I ever steered you wrong?"

She raised her eyebrow. "I can give you either a summary or a list, which one would you prefer?"

"I haven't steered you wrong _that _many times." She continued to glance at him with her eyebrow slightly raised. "If I have, it's because we're a family…and that's what a family does." She was skeptic about his answer; he had never once referred to them as his "family". In fact, just five weeks ago she had heard him say that he didn't have a family.

"A family manipulates and keeps secrets from one another?" Van Pelt asked him. "Where did you grow up again?"

He chuckled in response. "I can assure you, Grace—this surprise will not end up with anybody getting arrested or you having to bail me out. I can also assure you that Lisbon has no idea of this surprise; as well…we've been invited by Walter."

"I guess that's a…" Van Pelt did a double take. "Wait, we're doing something with Lisbon and Mashburn? Jane! Do you remember the _last _time?"

He nodded. "I do, but Walter is convinced I'm in love with you." She made a face, and he laughed. "…and because I'm in love with you, he doesn't think I'm still trying to prove a point to Lisbon. It's the perfect time to play my cards and force the game."

She shook her head. "You're an idiot." She paused, as he blinked. "And I don't call people idiots that often, Jane."

"Well, I'm _really_ touched." He offered.

"I don't think you understand."

"Oh, I think I do." Jane answered. "However, if you want to waste your breath—go ahead and enlighten me, oh Agent Grace Van Pelt."

He was mocking her again, wasn't he?

She sighed. "If Lisbon realizes that you're up to something, won't she do something about it?" Jane shook his head.

"You see, this is where _I _have the upper hand!" Jane explained, before he drew a finger across his lips. "I can't tell you why yet, but trust me."

Trust. There it was. The most awkward word between the two of them, and everybody else within the unit. She knew he wouldn't do anything to put anybody purposely in harm's way, but the idea of trying to pull one over on Lisbon made her less inclined to trust him.

"Once again," he repeated. "When have I _ever _steered you so off track that you couldn't find your way back on again?" She opened her mouth—the man had done _many _things to her; he had almost gotten her killed, almost gotten her hurt and he had manipulated her emotional state many a time, but he had never done anything that she could have never recovered from without many years of therapy—he grinned. "You can't name one time, can you?"

She frowned. "I…"

"Exactly." He gave her, as he settled back down onto his couch and closed his eyes. "It's all about the endless circle of what you think is the limit, and pushing that limit until it no longer exists." She stared at him. Jane was _really _strange sometimes.

"So…" Van Pelt replied. "You're _still _not telling me anything, are you?"

"If I did…" he started, and she sighed.

"It takes the fun and surprise out of everything."

**X.X.X**

"I'm ecstatic that you both could join us!" Mashburn greeted brightly, with his arm wrapped around Lisbon's waist. Van Pelt noted idly, that the woman was completely relaxed against him and that Jane was somewhat irked (and envious?) as he slipped his own arm around her waist. "I'm really surprised you both didn't want to spend your one month anniversary alone."

"Oh, we thought about doing that." Jane lied. "Or rather, Grace wanted it." She gave him a side glance, because up until five minutes ago, she hadn't even been aware that there was such a thing as a formal bowling party. Jane, however, seemed completely relaxed in his tuxedo and seemed eager to get out onto the lanes. "Bowling really isn't her thing, but she's here to support me and celebrate our one month."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing—she could probably bowl circles around Jane.

"Congratulations, Jane and Van Pelt." Lisbon responded, and Jane beamed.

"I thought about taking us both to Vegas…" She pinched his right thigh, and though he didn't stop the lie, he flinched. "But she has work tomorrow, and I doubted the boss would take lightly to me whisking her off to a weekend of pampering. Isn't that right, Lisbon?"

If the glare Jane was receiving from Lisbon meant anything, she assumed the answer to that question was yes.

"Ah, Vegas." Mashburn gave, with a glance down at Lisbon. "We should go there, Teresa. It's such a _wonderful _place at night."

"Would that be a good idea, Walter?" The boss teased, and Jane met her eyes. There was just something off putting, in her opinion that was completely creepy about Lisbon flirting with Mashburn in front of them. She wondered briefly, if it had anything to do with the fact that Lisbon was her boss.

"It would!" He reassured with a brilliant smile. "We'd take one of my private jets; dine at a few exclusive and very hush-hush restaurants…" He lowered his head to capture Lisbon's lips in a chaste kiss.

Jane pretended to gag, and she couldn't help but agree. This was _slightly _disturbing.

Lisbon pulled away with a small smile playing on her lips. "Well, since we're here…we should probably bowl."

"Seems logical to me." Jane agreed. "After all, this is a bowling formal party—not a talking formal party."

Mashburn laughed. "Patrick, my good and dear friend—how well do you bowl?"

Jane only grinned. "I would say not bad, you?"

"Excellent!" Their gracious host chimed back. "I'm not half-bad, myself."

It turned out that both Jane and Mashburn had excellent skills when it came to bowling. Lisbon was also quite well herself, but she only played one frame allowing the boys to knock heads on their own.

"Lisbon?" She asked, as they both sipped at the glass of champagne they had been provided by the gentlemen. Both of their gentlemen, currently stood five feet from them arguing about the score of their current game.

"Hm?" Lisbon asked.

"Have you ever heard of a formal bowling party?" Asking the boss personal questions seemed odd, so small talk was the excellent way around that oddness.

"Nope." Lisbon answered. "But then again, I don't make it a point to go around searching for one." The woman had a valid point. "Van Pelt? If you don't bowl, why did you let Jane take you here?"

She slyly smiled. "Boss, I can bowl. I just didn't tell _him _that."

"It's probably for the best you didn't tell him." Lisbon chuckled. "Jane's competitive, but so is Walter." Lisbon gave the extremely animated Jane a wistful look, and Van Pelt wondered what the woman was thinking about her consultant.

"Besides that," Van Pelt continued. "There's not much I can do when he shows up on my doorstep to take me places."

The wistful look completely faded from Lisbon's face, and the woman didn't say anything else to her for the rest of the night.

**X.X.X**

_I am never doing that with him again, ever. _She thought, as she stared up at the dark ceiling in her bedroom while Ziege slept at the bottom of the bed. _Double dates are completely overrated. _

She sighed, and tried to shift under her covers. After the events of a weary night, and an absolutely disastrous date—all Van Pelt wanted to do was sleep, but her mind just wouldn't let her drift off.

Jane's _brilliant _idea had completely backfired, and she couldn't stop thinking about the punch Mashburn had given Jane for _trying _to make a move on Lisbon. She shifted again and wondered if the man was physically all right. He _seemed _all right as he dropped her off, but that didn't mean anything.

She sighed, when Ziege began to bark, suddenly. "Girl? What's wrong?" The dog growled, and Van Pelt knew _something _was going on. Quickly, she leaned over to her bedside table and grabbed her off-duty weapon to aim at the door, when the door to her bedroom opened.

"Don't come any closer!" She cried to whoever stood just outside her bedroom. She couldn't see the person, but she could hear him or her heavily breathing. "If you do, I will shoot." The person chuckled, and flipped on her bedroom light.

She blinked twice, before his smirking face came into her vision. "You'd shoot your own boyfriend?" Jane asked, with a laugh. "You have issues, Grace. I think you're getting as paranoid as Lisbon is."

"Damn it, Jane!" She cursed, and glanced over at her alarm clock while she threw her gun down—it was only 2:30 AM. "You can't _call _like a normal person?"

"Where would the fun in that be, Grace?" He asked her with a large smile. "I enjoy breaking in and out of people's apartments."

"How's your eye?" She glanced at the eye that had taken the brunt of Mashburn's anger, to find that the shiner was _still _as prominent as it had been hours ago. "Do you need an ice pack?"

"It'll be fine, but thanks for offering." Jane replied, before he sat down on the edge of her bed and she pulled her legs back to give him some room. "Where do you think my plan went wrong?"

"Besides _not _telling me that you were going to attempt to get her drunk and then hypnotize her?" Van Pelt asked, and Jane turned his head to glance at her. "_Absolutely _nothing."

If he had _just _told her about the plan ahead of time, she could have prevented him from being assaulted by Mashburn.

"There's no need to be patronizing, Grace." Jane chided. "I just asked for an opinion."

"And I gave you one." She answered, as she leaned back against her headboard. "Jane," she sighed at his frown aimed in her direction. "You played your cards, but did you ever think that maybe Lisbon _wants _to be with Mashburn?"

"That's an awfully cruel thing of you to say." Jane responded.

"It's 2:35 in the morning, and you broke into my apartment." Van Pelt sniped. "I could be _a lot _crueler." Jane was trying her patience, but she understood—he needed a friend.

"You could be, but you won't be."

She closed her eyes. "What do you want, Jane?" He didn't immediately say anything and just as she was about to doze off, he spoke up.

"I want to sleep with you."

In nearly five seconds flat, she had gone from being completely comfortable on her bed to being uncomfortable on the floor, from having tumbled off the bed at his announcement. "You want to _what _with me?"

He glanced down at her. "If I had known you were _that _eager to sleep with me, I would have asked you weeks ago." The smallish smirk told her he was laughing at something, but she doubted it was to her falling off the bed. "Calm your horses, Van Pelt."

"I don't seriously appreciate you breaking into my house, and asking for _sex_."

Jane's expression was priceless. "You thought I wanted _sex_? Oh, Grace. Please. Never change." She was confused. Hadn't he _just _told her that he wanted to sleep with her? What did he think that meant? "I forget that you aren't used to hearing the term "sleep together" as a non-sexual innuendo."

"I know what you mean, Jane!"

"Of course you do, that's why you just automatically assumed that I wanted you _and _your body." Jane answered with a grin. "While you are extremely beautiful and I'm sure you're absolutely amazing in bed—" she felt her face grow hot, "I don't think it would be the best course of action, if I were to keep trying to get Teresa back."

She let out a breath of relief. "However," he continued. "That doesn't mean that I still don't want to sleep with you, and when I say "sleep with you", I mean it just as it sounds."

Jane was trying to kill her. "You want to sleep with me, but you don't want to have sex? Why didn't you just say you wanted to sleep _next _to me?"

He shrugged. "I thought it would be more comical if I gave you the innuendo, and let you come to your own conclusions. I do believe this proves a point. Men aren't the only ones who think about having a good romp in the hay."

She blushed again. "I don't even know what to say to you right now."

"You could just say yes. I've been told that I'm an _excellent _bedmate!"

"…" Van Pelt just stared up at him. If he tried to tell her that his thoughts were pure and innocent in this situation, she would _die_. He was purposely saying things like this to freak her out!

"Get your head out of the gutter, Grace." Jane brightly responded. "You're thinking way too hard about this, when all we both want is a good night of sleep." She continued to glance at him, and it was then she noticed how exhausted he _truly _was.

The shiner only tried to hide the bags under his eyes from weeks of insomniac tendencies, but she could still see them from where she was resting.

"You need sleep."

"Do you think I don't know that?" He replied. "I'm running on pure adrenaline."

She knew this would be yet another thing she would regret, but Jane was her friend and he needed her help; for a moment, she thought about making him sleep on the couch, but she knew the man would _never _sleep. "Come on then, we _do _have work tomorrow morning."

He smiled brightly down at her. "Thank you, Grace."

Sometime later, she had finally managed to settle herself back down onto the bed with Jane lying next to her. Luckily, the bed was large enough to allow the both of them plenty of room to toss and turn, without accidentally kicking the other person, subconsciously.

Jane was silent, and she had her eyes closed with her covers pulled to her chin. Sleep had almost claimed her, when Jane's voice interrupted the silence.

"Grace?"

"Wha…?" She asked.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"No," she gave firmly, but Jane's silence made her somewhat curious—and she knew sleep wouldn't be easy, if she remained curious. "Fine, but I get to ask you one in return."

"Fair enough, I suppose." She felt him shift. "Why haven't you had a boyfriend? A pretty woman like you surely can't be out of admirers."

Even with her mind fuzzy with exhaustion, she frowned. "You are my boyfriend, remember?"

"Before me." He corrected. "And before you say it, Rigsby doesn't count!"

"I don't know?" She offered, because she didn't exactly feel like it was necessary to tell him about the individual who had tried to hit on her the other day at the gas station. "I've just been busy?"

"You've been busy for _three _years? I thought rearranging my sock drawer took time, but wow." He mocked.

"I'm an agent, Jane." She explained. "People are killed every day, so when do I have the time to date?"

Jane grew silent, which had signaled the end of that conversation to her. _Honestly though_, she thought, _work for the past three years has been completely hectic! _

He just didn't understand the dedication and commitment it took to being a state agent. He worked the same hours she did, pretty much but he just made extremely good hunches and slept on a couch. Van Pelt had nothing against his methods, but the idea that he didn't think work was hectic was because he slept through it all.

"I think you're lying." Jane spoke after a few more minutes of silence, quietly.

"No, I'm not!" She argued.

"Oh, yes you are." He challenged. "But you've managed to convince yourself that you're telling the truth, after all you can fool everybody in a room if only you can manage to fool yourself first."

She didn't need _Dr. _Jane telling her about her own psychological mindset, especially when she knew herself better than he did. "I am not!"

Jane sighed. "Relax, Grace. I am only going to tell you why, okay?"

"Whatever," she spoke, and he cleared his throat.

"You haven't dated since O'Laughlin…"

"_Don't mention him!_" She hissed in response. His name was forbidden in her apartment! Completely forbidden!

"…he died." Jane corrected, without even apologizing. "You've been afraid of having a genuine relationship, because you fear that every man in your life will hurt you or us again. I hope you realize Grace, that what he did was never your fault. Psychopaths have signs, and even with all the time we spent around him, I never figured it out." Jane paused. "I don't blame you for anything, and I'm sure Lisbon doesn't either."

She sniffed lightly. "The past is called the past for a reason, Jane."

Jane shifted again. "You and I both know the past doesn't go away."

No, it didn't. It _never _did. She still closed her eyes and saw Craig's life draining before her very eyes. Time, it seemed, didn't heal _all_ wounds, like she had heard once upon a time.

Van Pelt shifted onto her side, as Jane spoke again. "Goodnight, Grace."

She didn't reply—she'd ask him her question later.

**X.X.X**

The second month of their relationship, in Van Pelt's honest opinion, had gone _much _better than the first one. One of the many reasons for that dealt with the fact that Jane was _still _alive, and Lisbon hadn't been persecuted for killing the consultant (which had _really _surprised her, because for about three hours the morning after their first month anniversary date disaster, she had thought that Lisbon had murdered the man and stuffed his body in the floor boards, when he hadn't emerged from the small office.)

The second of many reasons had been the lack of double dates—Lisbon might have forgiven Jane for his stupidity, but Mashburn probably hadn't, considering that they hadn't been invited back on anymore dating excursions (at least to her knowledge anyway, and she was perfectly fine with that.)

On the morning of hers and Jane's second month anniversary, she had come into the bullpen expecting the man to have decorated her desk with balloons only to find her desk completely bare of Jane-ish surprises, the man gone from his couch, and Cho sitting at his own desk with a book in his hands. Idly, she stepped over to Cho's desk with a wide smile.

"Good morning!"

Cho glanced up at her, before he went back to reading his book. "Morning."

She decided to not beat around the bush, as the man seemed pretty engrossed in whatever book he was reading, so she asked him directly. "Where's Jane?" Cho didn't glance up from his book.

"Lisbon's office." Cho informed. "Walter Mashburn is here."

Van Pelt frowned, she didn't _think _he was back to punch Jane again. "What is he doing here?"

"Visiting Lisbon, I would guess." She bit her lip with a nod, and leaned against his desk as Cho glanced up at her again. "Whatever it is; I don't want to know."

"Fair enough," she replied. "Thanks though."

He didn't say anything in response, and she went back to her desk—the dynamic in the team hadn't changed _that _much, besides the fact that Rigsby seemed to try and corner Jane more often than not. Cho didn't exactly care about the soap opera going on within the unit (like Jane had predicted), and Lisbon was too involved in her relationship with Mashburn, that she either didn't see what was going on or she didn't care that Rigsby was trying to intimidate Jane.

"Good morning, Grace!" Jane's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she glanced from her still-off computer to find him standing next to her desk. "How is my favorite girlfriend this morning?"

"I'm your _only _girlfriend." she replied, and Jane grinned. "How are you?"

"I'm still alive." He answered in a whisper, with a large grin. "Walter didn't try and give me _another _shiner, and he seemed all right with me being around Lisbon." She tried to hide her smile, Jane sounded so excited at the prospect of having the trust from Mashburn back, but she wondered what he would have told the unit if the billionaire had decided to try the other eye.

When Jane had stepped into the bullpen with his first shiner, Rigsby had asked him what had happened. Jane merely smiled, and glanced her with a wink.

_"Oh, Grace hit me with a frying pan." _

To that day, Rigsby would never tell her _exactly _where the frying pans in the kitchenette were located.

"Good morning, Rigsby!" Jane greeted the fellow agent, as he strolled into the bullpen—Rigsby gave Jane a glance, before he smiled brightly at her.

"Good morning, Grace!" He greeted her, and she smiled back.

"Good morning, Wayne!"

The agent didn't even acknowledge Jane, as he headed toward his own desk to greet Cho. Jane glanced back at her.

"Well, this is a new one." Jane stated. "He's ignoring me. I'm impressed."

"He's probably ignoring you, because you're flaunting our relationship." Van Pelt quietly explained, and Jane waved it off.

"I think I'll go say hi again," she watched him leave, and she had a feeling this wasn't going to end well. She didn't even bother hiding the fact that she was watching the both of them, or the fact that she was slightly puzzled at Jane's animated behavior, Rigsby's growing anger, or Cho's quirk of the eyebrow in her direction. Jane's quiet voice became louder, until she could hear him clearly. "…you really want to know, go ask her."

Rigsby turned to stare at her, and hesitated.

"If you won't ask her," Jane cut in, with a giant smile. "I'll ask her myself." He turned to her. "Grace, did we sleep together?"

She sputtered, and felt her cheeks redden. "We didn't sleep with each other, we just slept together!" She tried to explain. "Nothing sexual happened!"

Rigsby's face grew red.

Cho coughed. "This is awkward."

Jane chuckled. "Oh come on, Rigsby. You had intercourse with my girlfriend; you can't tell me it didn't knock your socks off."

"_Jane!" _She cried, before she glanced at the angry Rigsby. "Jane had insomnia. I just wanted to be a good friend!"

He scoffed. "You should have thrown him on your couch."

Oh, he was going to be sleeping with the _fishes. _She didn't care who arrested her, but she was going to strange the consultant. Her hands were going to find their way around his neck, and she was going to strangle him.

He was going to be a _very _dead consultant for this one.

Jane merely grinned. "Did you know she has a furry pair of handcuffs? They're leopard print." Rigsby narrowed his eyes, before he stomped off from the bullpen.

Cho glanced up at Jane. "Why do you do that? He's only going to come back and punch you."

Jane waved it off, "Meh. Rigsby wouldn't hit me here. He'd wait until I left, because he wouldn't want to anger Lisbon." He glanced back at her, and she narrowed her eyes. He merely smiled. "Did you enjoy my little touch about the leopard print handcuffs?"

She grimaced. "Just so you know; I'm planning your death." He laughed. "I'm completely serious." He opened his mouth to respond to her threat, when Lisbon (and Mashburn, who followed behind her) stepped into the bullpen.

Lisbon didn't look too happy to see him.

"Jane? What did you say to Rigsby?"

Jane beamed. "I didn't say anything."

"Oh, really?" She asked and her tone was laced with sarcasm. "Then, why did Rigsby just pass by office muttering something about he was going to kill you?"

"Oh, you know Rigsby…always the drama king." Jane lied.

"Cho?" Lisbon asked, and Jane continued to brightly smile.

"Jane told Rigsby about his sexual feats with Van Pelt."

Mashburn chuckled. "Fascinating topics that go on in here, I feel that I need to work here!"

"Oh, it gets better." Jane explained, coyly.

Lisbon narrowed her eyes. "Walter, you're not working here." The man frowned. "Jane, I would suggest you go apologize to Rigsby." Jane laughed.

"Me? Apologize? You're kidding, yes?"

Lisbon didn't reply. "Van Pelt," the woman addressed her. "He's your boyfriend. Learn how to handle him and for crying out loud, don't let him pass sexual rumors at work! We already have enough of those as it is!"

The blush on her skin would probably permanently be there, but at least Lisbon and Mashburn had left the three alone.

"Happy second month anniver…"

"Shut up, Jane." Van Pelt snapped—she would _never _forgive him for this one.


	7. Media

**Title: **he always gets what he wants

**Disclaimer: **Nope.

**Notes: **

Thanks for all the reviews, I appreciate them greatly!

I said last chapter that we'd get a bit of plot…well, here it is! :D

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><p><strong>6: Media<strong>

"We've got a case, and I want most of us out there." Lisbon addressed the unit, as Jane tried to play with Van Pelt's hair…which she wouldn't let happen. She was still angry with him, and it didn't matter that the conversation had happened nearly four weeks ago! "The MO seems to be the work of a serial killer." She felt him still, and she almost wanted to tilt her head back to look at the expression on his face, but her pride wouldn't allow her to do so. Even angry, this conversation made her worry for him, because even though he had killed Red John nearly three years ago, it didn't mean he was ready to face yet another madman.

"It's not a Red John copycat killer again, is it?" Rigsby asked, and she frowned—even years later, people tried to copy Red John's murders—but thankfully none of them, in her opinion anyway, were smart enough to pull it off.

"It doesn't appear so," Lisbon answered, and Jane resumed playing with Van Pelt's hair. "Our contact down in the Palm Springs office tells me the crime isn't a pretty sight."

"When has murder ever been pretty?" Jane cut in, and Lisbon glanced at him. "I mean, we run all over the state of California and never _once_, I have a seen what these officers refer to as a _pretty _crime."

"I'm surprised you've decided to actually listen to my debriefing." Lisbon paused. "Usually, you want to stay away from possible serial killers."

"Meh," he waved her off. "I tend to stay away from serial killers named by the media. For example, Red John wasn't even in my eyesight until the police decided to seek my services. He wasn't even _called _Red John until three murders before my wife and daughter's..." He paused, and everybody gave the man a moment to recollect himself. "The media gave him his glory crown, and high horse."

"The media tends to give all serial killers their glory crowns, and high horses to ride around on." Lisbon responded. "Anyway, the media has already given the killer a crowning name…"

"The vultures really find dead things fast, don't they?" Jane asked. "What is it this time? Red Jane? Red Doe? Black Spider? Purple Koala? White Alpaca? Blue Lobster? Orange Cat? Green Frog? Yellow Fox?"

"Those are horrible serial killer names." Van Pelt interrupted with a scoff. "Why would the media call somebody a blue lobster?"

"Poetic license." Cho replied.

Lisbon humorously laughed. "Yeah. I don't exactly understand the media's method either."

"You should ask Mr. Perfect." Jane sniped, and Lisbon narrowed her eyes in his direction. "He's always in the media, isn't he Lisbon? Must be nice dating a _celebrity_?"

"Jane!" Van Pelt hissed with a tilt of her head, as he beamed down at her.

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm not trying to rain on your lovers' parade," Lisbon interrupted. "But we're working here."

"So?" Jane asked. "Grace and I aren't doing anything…yet." She was absolutely horrified that he would even insinuate (yet again) to the boss that they _were _doing something behind closed doors, but Lisbon didn't even act as if the display bothered her. Then again, maybe it hadn't? Maybe Lisbon had _really _moved on with Mashburn. "Please do tell me the name of the serial killer we must catch, and deliver justice to _this _time."

Lisbon sighed. "The name, straight from the newspaper is Red Calla."

Jane snorted. "What is with California, and their obsessions with the color red?"

"I think it's safe to say the media chose something appropriate." Lisbon answered. "This is the second victim found with a lily carved into their chest—if the MO remains consistent, this lily is carved into the chest just before death." Lisbon moved to pick up a manila folder that she had sat down on the silver table near Jane's couch. "Thanks to the media, and the high buzz around these deaths; these cases are deemed high priority by the CBI."

Jane beamed. "Do you think we'll have time to visit my good pal, Dr. Wagner?" She blinked. Of all the people he could meet, he wanted to go poke a murderer? "Grace, I can introduce you to him. I'm sure he'd find you quite charming."

"Jane!" Lisbon snapped. "Focus! We're trying to solve a crime, not go to some murderer's reunion." Jane chuckled, and his mouth was next to her ear.

"We'd catch more murderers that way." She chuckled; as horrible as Jane's ideas usually were, a murderer's reunion was semi-sane. "Would you like to meet him, Grace?" She shrugged, as she tried to focus on Lisbon's debriefing—but Jane continued to distract her with his inane ramblings.

"Or, we could catch the killer and go on a date at the same time. I'm sure Lisbon wouldn't mind, as long as I was babysat."

She squirmed in her seat—her anger at him was fading fast.

"You'd dress in a beautiful dress—blue to offset your eyes, and I would dress in a navy blue three piece suit…."

Lisbon cleared her throat, and Van Pelt jumped. She felt Jane pull his fingers from her hair, but he continued to touch her shoulder to the apparent annoyance of Rigsby and Lisbon.

"How do we know Red Calla is a female, boss?" She tried to redeem herself from not having listened to anything after Jane had begun to distract her. Oddly, she understood why Lisbon hadn't allowed their relationship and work lives to combine. Jane was temptation, a devil-in-disguise and though she didn't even consider their relationship to be real (beyond friends)—he could still manage to make her feel like a relationship wouldn't be _so _bad.

"The latest crime scene isn't something another male could apparently do." Lisbon explained. "The Medical Examiner began to glance over the body when she noticed something missing."

"Something vital?" Rigsby asked. "Like a wallet? A wrist watch…?"

"More like a body part."

"So, the serial killer cuts off arms?"

Lisbon shook her head. "No, but if this really is Red Calla's work and her MO remains consistent of red headed men or women—the male will always be missing his penis; the ME can't yet tell if it was removed pre or post mortem."

Rigsby flinched, Cho remained expressionless, and Jane went back to playing with her hair.

"Well, Lisbon. I doubt the part will be used as a key to unlock some body part locked safe." Jane offered, optimistically. "If anything, it must be a trophy."

Lisbon nodded. "I thought the same thing; however the Palm Springs Officer-in-Charge disagrees. He believes that the victim was castrated due to some feminist movement."

"But," her brows were furrowed in concentration. "The very word feminism implies equality between sexes. Doing _that_…" she waved her arm around in explanation. "…doesn't prove feminism, it just proves an extreme radical movement."

Lisbon nodded again. "The bureau, as I was informed earlier, doesn't want a repeat performance of Red John."

"Or rather," Jane input. "They don't want one of their own killing a serial killer again."

"Pretty much." Lisbon agreed. "Which is why, I've been asked to be the bearer of bad news."

"Let me guess," Jane cleared his throat. "Agent Lisbon, we do not want Mr. Jane anywhere _near _this crime scene. Make him stay in Sacramento, and find him an appropriate babysitter." She nearly laughed—Jane had gotten better in his impressions of the new CBI head.

"You hit that straight on." Lisbon gave, dryly. "Unfortunately, I am not able to _guide _you for needing to supervise the crime scene. I will also need Cho and Rigsby to come with me. Van Pelt, I need you to stay here."

Jane pressed his hand against the small of her back, and she blinked. She had been working under Lisbon for at least six years, and the woman_ still _kept her out of the field to watch the computer (or the consultant) and it angered her, but she had to swallow her pride. "Yes, ma'am." Sometimes, working in the Serious Crimes Unit was a blessing, and other times…it was a curse.

Lisbon turned to address Cho and Rigsby, while Jane tried to console her and she let him.

"You and I will have our own fun while they're gone, I promise."

She bit her tongue to keep from saying something she'd regret later. "I'm sure, Jane." He began to massage her shoulders, and she smiled in gratitude.

"You're tense," he muttered. "Obviously, Lisbon's decision isn't settling well."

"I wanted more field time."

"There will always be a next time." He offered. "I don't know why you don't tell her."

"I'm still the rookie."

"Experience should count at something."

And she agreed with him. Sure, Rigsby and Cho had years of experience through various departments while she only had the academy training, and the Serious Crimes Unit experiences. While most would (or could) knock that, she couldn't. She had learned so much about herself, she'd lost three boyfriends, and more importantly, she had learned how to handle herself in a man's world.

Lisbon turned back to them, "Our flight leaves in two hours, we'll be back as soon as we can." Van Pelt nodded. "If anything happens…"

"I know, Lisbon." Jane told her. "If anything happens, I'll have Grace around to protect me with a gun."

"I'm more worried about what will happen this time, especially after what happened the _last _time I left the both of you alone." Lisbon gave.

"I'm not blind this time, Lisbon." Jane answered. "Why would anybody come after me this time? I haven't done anything to piss anybody off lately!"

"I don't think I need to repeat that Red Calla targets individuals with red hair." Lisbon gave her a side glance. "It's another reason why I believe you're safer here, Van Pelt. The killer might still be hanging around in Palm Springs. I would rather know that you're safe, instead of worrying about protecting you every minute of the day."

The logic did make sense, somewhat—but it didn't mean she was going to be happy about it.

"As long as you're here, Van Pelt; you should be safe." Lisbon informed. "Not many serial killers are risky enough to try and kidnap an agent, anyway."

She nodded, and Lisbon left the bullpen.


	8. Out

**Title: **he always gets what he wants

**Disclaimer: **Um…I don't think so.

Um…I have absolutely no excuses on why I haven't posted in so long, but this story will be getting finished this week. I seriously want to thank everybody for the reviews!

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><p><strong>7: Out<strong>

Jane had yet again fallen asleep on his couch, after promising for a fun filled work week while the others had gone out to try and piece together the crime scene. She kind of wanted to wake the man, but from their latest late night chat; she knew his sleep habits were suffering again. With Lisbon, he had told her as they shared a cup of tea, he had never needed a sleeping pill—but now that he was back alone again, he needed one to get through the night terrors that had often visited him.

With a stifled yawn, she glanced at her watch and wondered if it was too soon for a break (even with it being after one, she just wanted and needed to stretch her legs from six hours of sitting at the desk with nothing to do.) Lisbon had yet to call them, and though the boss had just left yesterday—Van Pelt assumed that they would have already heard from her.

"If you're getting up from the cursed desk," Jane's voice startled her from her thoughts. "Could you be an excellent girlfriend, and make me a cup of tea?"

She glanced at him, as he stared at her on his couch. "I was thinking of going outside—the weather is nice today."

"Hm." He responded. "How long will you be gone? I doubt Lisbon would appreciate you leaving, especially with a serial killer out and about."

"I'll be fine, and are you still hoping I'll make you your tea?" She heckled.

"Of course, Grace—you're my excellent girlfriend, aren't you?" She rolled her eyes in response, but she _was _really thankful that he hadn't tried to persuade her against going outside. She was going _absolutely _stir crazy being contained at her damn desk!

"Why can't you make it?"

"Because Grace, Mr. Couch and I have a philosophical debate going on and if I get up, he'll think he's won."

"In other words, you just don't want to move."

He threw her a lopsided grin, "You know me so well."

"Fine," she sighed. "I'll make you your tea, but if it comes out wrong—I don't want any complaints." He continued to grin lopsidedly at her.

"Make it before your break, and I'll buy you a pony."

"I don't want a pony." She remarked, as she stood from her desk. "I'll go make your tea, all right?"

He merely gave her a wave of the hand while she left the bullpen for the kitchenette, where she quickly prepared his tea before bringing it back to him.

"Thank you, Grace." He enthusiastically gave, putting the teacup on the ledge of his couch. "I'll see you soon?"

She nodded. "Thirty minutes."

"All right then! If you need anything, you know where to find me!" She nodded at him, and left the bullpen with a small smile on her lips. It was a cool enough day to stroll around the CBI in the comforts of a nice sunny Thursday afternoon. The surrounding grounds, she noticed, weren't exactly full with people, but she continued to walk about the grounds until she found a deserted area with a bench large enough for two to sit comfortably. Happily, Jane wasn't around to interfere with her private time and her phone was sitting quietly in her pocket.

She felt so relaxed that she could close her eyes, which is what she did.

"You know, it isn't safe for you to be out here alone, right?" Aubrey's voice caused her to open her eyes, to find the brunette sitting on the bench next to her—her hands tucked away in her blue jean jacket pockets. "Papers say Red Calla is targeting red heads, and well—outside the CBI isn't the safest place you could be right now."

The concern was touching, but she could handle herself. "I'm fine, but thank you for the concern." She returned, and Aubrey sighed.

"I hope you don't mind that I joined you out here; Taylor and Diana have been fighting lately, and I'm not one for conflict. It's been annoying me lately, and when I saw you pass by our kitchenette, I excused myself and followed you out here."

"It's all right." She replied. "I really don't mind the company." Aubrey gave a small smile, and the two lapsed back into silence. "How's work?"

"It's fine. You?"

"Boring." She honestly gave, and Aubrey laughed.

"Figures that working in Serious Crimes would be boring."

"The entire team, with the exception of Jane and I, are out investigating a case. Desk work is only interesting when you want to do it."

"Dr. Anderson has me the same way. Being the rookie is never any fun." Van Pelt agreed wholeheartedly with that statement, though she didn't say a word in response. "How long do you have left out here?"

"On break?" She asked, and Aubrey nodded, while she glanced down at her watch. "Twenty-three more minutes, you?" Aubrey didn't immediately reply, and she glanced up from her watch toward her bench partner to find the woman staring off into nothing. "Aubrey? Are you all right?"

Aubrey nodded slowly, "I am, but it means nothing to you." She stared at the brunette in confusion, just a few seconds ago—the woman had been normal, not acting odd at all.

"Of course! You being all right means something to me." She answered. "We're friends, aren't we?"

Aubrey scoffed. "Obviously, the concern means nothing unless it's from your boyfriend."

"Why would you say that, Aubrey?" Though she didn't say it out loud, Aubrey's sudden turnaround in emotions caused alarms to go off in her head. Something _wasn't _right with the young woman.

"Oh, you know." Aubrey snidely remarked. "I figured he might not be as concerned when you go missing."

She paused in confession, until she glanced down at Aubrey's hands to find a small flash of silver showing from her jacket. Van Pelt leapt for her own gun, only to realize that she hadn't even grabbed it—Jane had distracted her from it, again.

"If you call out to anybody, I will put a bullet through you." The comment wasn't a joke, even if the woman crookedly grinned.

"Aubrey!" She tried to reason—if Jane were here, he'd try and get the gun wielder to think straight. "Think through what you're about to do." The woman paused, but not before she had one of her hands pressed against the temples of her forehead.

"Stop it!" Aubrey cried. "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" At this point, she wondered if Aubrey hadn't gone insane. "Grace!" The woman continued. "It hurts!"

"Aubrey?" She asked. "What hurts?"

"My head! It…it…"

Van Pelt glanced at Aubrey's head, only to find no head wound or visible injury.

"Do I need to call an ambulance?"

Aubrey clenched her eyes shut, "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"

She moved to pull her phone from her pocket, when she heard something hit the ground with a soft thud.

Aubrey's gun.

Consequences be damned! She leapt for it. Her hand had curled around it, when she felt something hard ram into the back of her head.

"Oh, Agent Van Pelt—I wouldn't pick that gun up if I were you."

The voice was _definitely _female, but she couldn't place it to anybody she personally knew.

"You see," the voice continued. "My fingers have been known to slip, and Miss. Abode didn't follow my orders perfectly. I suppose hypnotism has its moral restraints, doesn't it?"

It wasn't the first question she had in mind, but it would work for now. "Who are you?"

"Who do you think I am?"

A million possibilities popped into her head, from the long dead Red John to even the janitor within the CBI…but she found that as she opened her mouth, she only had one name to say.

"Red Calla."

"You are a smart one, Agent. However, your CBI is quite the opposite, aren't they? Letting you out by your poor lonesome? I thought Patrick Jane was supposed to prevent this from happening, but apparently he's only good for his looks." The female scoffed. "Befriending lowly level employees to get you was easy, and now I've got you where I want you."

"You forget," Van Pelt reminded. "We're on CBI grounds. If I scream, you'll be caught."

Red Calla chuckled. "Scream and she dies. I have no use for her now." She kept quiet; having the only person killed who could alert somebody to what was happening didn't seem like such a wonderful idea at the moment. "Good, now Agent Van Pelt—you will do _exactly _what I tell you to do or else." She gave a timid nod, her knees still on the ground. "Give me your handcuffs, and do not turn around to face me. I am your mistress at the moment, and you will obey my every order." Carefully, she undid the pouch containing her handcuffs and handed them over to the mysterious woman. "Hands behind your back." She did so, and the uncomfortable feeling of metal pressed down on her wrists again. She _seriously _hated people using handcuffs on her! "Good. Good. Now, I'm going to take you. You do not need to know where we are going, Grace. It is not important."

Yeah, and her name wasn't Grace Van Pelt either.

Realistically, she knew that she was too far to call out to anybody, and even if she _was _close enough; Red Calla had the upper hand.

"I think I'll just give you a little gift, it might make you feel more comfortable." Red Calla chuckled, lightly. "Whoever said I was not humane clearly lied."

_This can't be good_, was the last thought she had before everything went dark.


	9. Plead

**Title: **he always gets what he wants

**Disclaimer: **Not mine!

Thank you all so much for the kind reviews and favorites and story alerts. I really do appreciate them!

* * *

><p><strong>8—Plead<strong>

"Grace? Grace? Can you hear me?" The extremely familiar voice brought her attention back from wherever it had previously been—her body burned in exhaustion, and she couldn't figure out why she was so tired, or why she couldn't lift her eyelids. "Is she…?"

"Give her a minute, Lisbon." Another familiar voice interrupted Lisbon's. "She's all right, though I'm highly surprised that things weren't worse." What things? What could have been worse? She was extremely confused, and her mind was fuzzy.

"You _wanted _bad things to happen to her?" Lisbon asked.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Jane explained. "I'm saying it _could _have been much worse, especially for the seventy-two hours she has been gone." Where did who go?

"What were you even _thinking _by letting her go outside?"

"According to Rigsby, I wasn't thinking at all."

"I have to agree with him—the hour before I left, I called you into my office and I told you to keep an eye on her. You said you would, and it turns out that you were _sleeping _while she was kidnapping."

"She said _thirty minutes_." Jane threw in aspiration. "I gave her twenty-five, and called—she didn't answer, Lisbon." He paused. "Do you know what I thought had happened?" There was another moment of silence. "I thought she had forgotten her phone, and I went to her desk. I'm not proud of opening her drawers, but I found her gun still tucked away, and no cell phone. It wasn't much later that the first text message came through."

She whimpered, and lifted her eyelids to find that she was in Lisbon's office (most likely lying down on the woman's couch). Jane and Lisbon stood over her, both of them turned toward the other, just staring.

Van Pelt didn't want to interrupt their moment, but she _needed _to know why she was in Lisbon's office.

"I feel like I've been hit by a truck." Lisbon jumped, and Jane chuckled as they turned to focus on her.

"You haven't been hit by a truck, Grace." Jane explained.

"I haven't?" Her body felt like it, but if she _had _been hit by a truck, wouldn't she be in the hospital?

"No, Van Pelt—you haven't."

"You took a pretty good hit from a serial killer though." Jane informed her, and she just glanced at him.

_Serial killer? _What was he talking about? There had been no serial killer.

Jane must have noticed something in her face, for he pulled out his phone. "Grace? What's the last thing you remember?"

"_Jane_!" Lisbon hissed, as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you know the definition of the word decorum?"

"Sure I do, Lisbon." Jane argued, before he swept his hand in her direction. "However, Grace is—at least, in my belief—dealing with a case of memory loss."

"Memory loss?" Lisbon asked. "_Memory loss_?" Jane nodded, and Lisbon grimaced. "This is _excellent_. We've got Red Calla," for some reason, her body trembled at the name, "witness testimonies, but we can't get a testimony from the agent herself who was kidnapped."

"I was kidnapped?" Things weren't making any sense, and she blamed her still hazy mind. "I don't remember being kidnapped…"

"See, Lisbon?" Jane bantered with a giant smile. "What'd I tell you? Memory loss."

"Is there any way to fix it?"

"Normally, I would say yes." Jane explained, calmly. "But, I can't be for sure what the memory loss was caused from. If she has been drugged, or injured—I can _usually _hypnotize the mind into reliving the experience, but if she's been hypnotized, and I will repeat myself—the trigger, as you know, could be anything. I doubt, even if she _is _my girlfriend, that she would appreciate me or anybody else poking and prodding her to give her back the lost memory."

"What memory am I supposedly missing?" Lisbon glanced at her, and from the glance, Van Pelt assumed it was nothing good.

"You might find this idea completely ridiculous, Grace—but I can assure you, you were kidnapped." She gaped—he had to be kidding. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I remember making you tea…"

"Interesting," Jane mused, before he grew silent.

"Your _interesting _better be _interesting_." Lisbon remarked.

"Oh, it is." He answered her. "Obviously, somebody encountered Grace before Red Calla did."

"We know somebody did." Lisbon replied. "I went through hours of security footage, only to find Aubrey having been the only one to leave _right after _Van Pelt had…but, it could have been a coincidence."

Jane shook his head. "There's no such thing as a coincidence, not in this situation anyway." She was too tired to ask them to clarify her again, so she closed her eyes. Roughly, she felt somebody shaking her shoulder and she opened her eyes, wearily.

"You can't sleep, Van Pelt—you might have a concussion." Lisbon explained to her, and she slowly nodded in understanding.

"She doesn't have a concussion, Lisbon."

"You don't know that!" The woman argued. "You're not a licensed doctor, and clearly, I'm wondering why you suggested waking her here instead of in a hospital. We can't be for sure that Red Calla didn't do anything majorly serious."

"Red Calla kidnapped me?" Van Pelt asked, in surprise. "I don't believe you." If Red Calla _had _kidnapped her, she would have felt it. Or at least, she would have _remembered _being kidnapped. Jane's logic behind this was guess work.

Jane glanced down at his phone. "You were, but obviously you aren't going to agree with either one of us until you see the proof." The man scrolled through his phone for a few minutes, before he handed it over to her.

"Do you think this is a good idea?" Lisbon muttered, while Van Pelt focused entirely on the screen of Jane's received text messages. _ Most _of them were from her, which seemed really strange considering that she didn't remember sending any of them out.

**Grace: **

It seems her legs don't stop shaking when she's nervous or scared, Patrick. I just wish I could see her pretty brown eyes light up in fear.

"…the worst thing that can happen?" Jane and Lisbon continued to have their own conversation, as she read the text messages.

**Grace: **

You can text her all you want, but she's not the one with the phone right now. :)

"…Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?"

**Grace: **

I'm sure you would like proof that I've got her. Attached is a photo of your _very _fair Grace.

She stumbled to find a photo, but she couldn't find one.

"You won't find a picture, Grace." Jane explained, calmly and she glanced up at him.

"Why not?"

Lisbon sighed. "When the text came through, I had tech take the phone. Once we had the pictures, we deleted them."

"Why?" She asked again, and Lisbon shifted. "I still don't believe you, boss." She paused. "No offense, but text messages can be duplicated or faked."

"I told you she wouldn't believe you without further proof involving photos." Jane answered. "Personally, I'm relieved she's safe." Lisbon begrudgingly nodded. "Maybe we should let her see her captor?"

Lisbon frowned. "You can't be serious! We haven't even taken her to the hospital, and I'm sure she's hungry." Van Pelt's stomach growled in hunger, and Jane chuckled. "I'll feed her first, and then take her to the hospital…"

"Don't bother with the hospital, Lisbon." Jane advised. "Red Calla never wanted to hurt Grace, she just wanted to show us that she was more than capable."

"I hope you're right." Lisbon spoke. "This is going against my better judgment."

"I'm _always _right, Lisbon." Jane answered with a smile. "Besides, the hospital isn't _that _far from here. We'll just call the ambulance, and they'll come and get her. No big deal."

Lisbon nodded. "Fine, but she's eating first."

"I wouldn't expect you to do this any other way."

She worked her busted lip between her teeth from what she could see in the reflection of the light, and wrapped her arms around her abdomen as she stared past the two-way mirror and into the small interrogation room, where the bland silver table separated the only distance between Cho, Lisbon, and the entirely too calm (or even bored) Taylor Conway.

Van Pelt nearly shivered, as she tried again to recall the past seventy-two hours of her supposed imprisonment, but she found her thoughts were completely and oddly blank. (In fact, Lisbon had told her while she was eating, that she had burst through the doors of her prison-shack—and that someone had leered over her body, with a knife posed to strike…and that _someone_, according to Lisbon and her witness testimonies, was Taylor Conway, or better known as Red Calla.

The door to the room where she was, abruptly opened and she didn't need to glance up to know it was Jane. Lisbon had sent him away earlier, when he had tried to storm into the interrogation room, with the explanation that his girlfriend needed him more than anyone else did. Gladly, he didn't say anything as he approached, and she was thankful. She _needed _to hear this conversation.

"I'm sure you know why you're here." Cho spoke, while Taylor gave a brief tilt of her head and a shrug of her shoulders in response.

"Obviously, you aren't giving me any awards for good behavior with these things on." Taylor shook her wrists, handcuffed together—the metal hit the table with a soft twinkle. "So, yes; I know why I'm here. You both and the individuals behind your fancy two-way mirror there…" Taylor paused to flicker her eyes to the mirror, and Jane wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "…think I kidnapped Agent Van Pelt." Taylor's eyes went back to the annoyed Lisbon and expressionless Cho. "I can assure you, however, I never touched her."

The knot in her throat lessened, even though the busted lip and the slight jarring pain in her abdomen told otherwise.

"There are _at least _twenty individuals who can vouch that they saw you—with a knife—standing over Agent Van Pelt's prone body."

"…and what does Agent Van Pelt have to say about this?"

Cho blinked. "Nothing."

The brunette chuckled. "Of course, your number one reliable witness can't prove it was me." Taylor flashed a rather cool smile. "You have absolutely no case, Agents." She stood from her chair and held out her wrists. "I expect these to come off, so I can get back to work."

"They aren't, Ms. Conway," Lisbon answered, as Taylor glared. "We've found evidence linking you to the death of Aubrey Albright."

Taylor gasped, as she sunk back into her chair. "Aubrey is dead?"

"She's good," Jane muttered, as Van Pelt glanced at him. "Don't worry about it, Grace."

She nodded.

"Yes, Ms. Albright is dead," Lisbon repeated. "Do you know what we found?" Taylor shook her head. "The rope that Aubrey was hung from? It had _your _fingerprints all over it."

Taylor scoffed. "What you _don't _know is that Aubrey is a disturbed individual. She's wanted to kill herself for months now, due to some drama going on within her family. Don't ask me what though. Aubrey doesn't…didn't tell me enough," Taylor sighed. "I bought that rope for our apartment, so yes—my fingerprints _would _be all over it."

Cho opened the manila folder and slid something across the table to Taylor, who glanced down at it.

"What is this?" Taylor's warm voice went cold.

"It seems Ms. Albright didn't trust you completely," Lisbon replied evenly.

"As if this is going to prove anything but the fact that Aubrey was an _excellent _fictional writer and should have written her own novels!" Taylor explained. "And like I said before, something was mentally _wrong _with Aubrey—a few days before today, she tried to kill Diana in our apartment with a _kitchen knife_. You can't honestly tell me that is what a mentality stable person is like! I had to call 911 and everything, but by the time the police had gotten there—Aubrey was already _long _gone, and Diana had a_ kitchen knife _embeddedin her chest cavity."

Now, _that _sounded like fiction.

"The bureau is_ perfectly _aware of Ms. Peter's current condition, Ms. Conway. However…your fingerprints, a journal page talking about your suspicious activities, and the testimonies of _several _agents placing you, once again with Agent Van Pelt seems like a good enough reason to gain a warrant to search your home, car, and work space here. Right, Cho?"

He nodded and Taylor shook her head.

"Fine, search me. I have absolutely nothing to hide."

Jane moved forward to rap on the glass causing Lisbon to excuse herself from the interrogation room and backtrack into the observation room. Jane then maneuvered Van Pelt and himself so that they were facing Lisbon.

"What? Is everything all right?" Lisbon asked, her eyes flickering between the two of them.

"I want to go in there, Lisbon," Jane told the senior agent, who narrowed her eyes in response. "You and Cho are getting nowhere."

"You don't think I don't know that?" She snapped, making Van Pelt flinch. "Look," she continued with a soft sigh, "I can't let you go in there."

"Can't or won't?" He asked.

"Damn it, Jane!" Lisbon chided. "It's not like that, and you know it!"

"You kept me from this case due to it involving a serial killer—however, I want to question her and what is stopping me?" He paused with a chuckle. "You? The bureau? Neither one of you could control me before." The room grew silent, and Van Pelt wondered if Jane had gone a step too far.

"I can't let you in there. You've got something to do right now."

Jane glanced over at Van Pelt. "You'll be fine by yourself, won't you?"

No, she wanted to say, but all she could do was nod.

"Great! Now that we've gotten that settled," Jane said, as he let her go and clapped his hands together, "Grace stays here, I question our serial killer miscreant, and you arrest!"

"For somebody who seems to _love _Van Pelt, you don't seem too concerned with how she's dealing," Lisbon threw, and Jane's cool anger flailed.

"When your boyfriend gets kidnapped and you have the chance to put the bastard behind bars—don't tell me you wouldn't do everything _and _anything possible to do so!"

Lisbon sneered. "He was kidnapped _many _times, and each time, I did every damn thing I could do to save his ass. Don't you even dare and try to turn this one on me, Jane!"

Van Pelt coughed to break the awkwardness, and Lisbon spoke again. "What if she collapses? You've managed to convince me _not _to send her to the hospital, remember?"

"I'm fine," she managed, and Lisbon shook her head.

"No, you aren't."

"I don't feel much pain, boss. I can handle myself!" Her abdomen flared with a sharp pain, and she wrapped her arms around her middle tighter. "I'm fine, really," she rasped and Lisbon frowned.

"No matter what you say, Van Pelt—I can't leave you by yourself," Lisbon argued, and Jane stepped toward the boss.

"We'll be right in there, Lisbon," Jane explained. "If Grace feels ill, she can always alert us by tapping on the glass." Lisbon eyed her over his shoulder, before she gave a reluctant nod.

"Fine," Lisbon turned to her. "If you feel _any _pain, or if you feel anything at all—tap on the window. I won't have you dying on me, because Jane is an idiot and you are stubborn."

Jane beamed as she nodded. "Shall we?" Lisbon nodded in return, and Jane turned his head to press his lips against Van Pelt's forehead. "I love you, Grace."

She stared at him, and she was pretty sure that even Lisbon had stopped to stare at him also. Was the man unwell? Had he really just spoken the three words that she had never even heard him say to Lisbon? Had the kidnapping brought the words out in the man, or was he just being difficult to cause a reaction from Lisbon?

"What?" He asked with a wide smirk. "Cat got your tongue, Lisbon?"

The boss grimaced. "I don't want to hear about your romance, Jane. Take it outside."

Jane gave her a side glance. "You. Me. Fif…"

"Go!" She waved him on, before he could irritate Lisbon even more. Jane nodded, as he started toward the door into the interrogation room with Lisbon on his heels. Soon enough, she was left by herself—in her opinion, her health could wait. Taylor Conway was more important.

She turned to face the glass, as Jane addressed Taylor.

"Why the color red?" He asked her. "Is there some lottery on how Red Calla chose her victims?" Taylor raised her eyebrows.

"Mr. Jane," she answered. "If I am not Red Calla, then how should I know what her pattern is? Isn't that Agent Lisbon's job?"

Jane shrugged. "Is it?" He glanced at Lisbon, who frowned. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Taylor."

Taylor sat up straight. "I'm listening."

Van Pelt rolled her eyes, the woman never could pass up a good amount of gossip.

Jane threw Taylor a small smile. "Grace remembers who kidnapped her. She remembers everything."

She rarely cursed; but what the _hell _was he playing at? She couldn't remember anything at all; she had even told him that! If the CBI tried to press charges against Taylor, they'd end up in a formal hearing where, unless Jane hypnotized her, (which wasn't going to have. Ever.) the case against Taylor would be declared as a mistrial from the judge.

Did Jane ever learn!

"Jane!" Lisbon tried,but the man just shook his head.

"She knows it was you who sent us little cat-and-mouse text messages. She knows it was you who kept her tied up for seventy-two hours."

Taylor grew less and less bored and Van Pelt wondered if Jane's plan was to anger the woman into a confession. Personally, she hoped Taylor would hit him.

"You've been trying to kill my girlfriend for the past month," Jane continued calmly, as the door to her room opened again. It obviously wasn't Lisbon, Jane or Cho—so that left Rigsby, the only other individual who would be comfortable enough to enter the room without knocking.

"You shouldn't be here," she informed him, focusing back on the individuals inside the interrogation room.

"I know," Rigsby responded. "I just needed to know if you're all right."

"I'm fine," she answered. "Thanks for the concern."

It wasn't that she didn't want him in there, but she wanted to be by herself to listen to the conversation within the interrogation room, without Rigsby getting upset (though they had both moved on—besides Rigsby cornering Jane to ask his intentions—he was still overprotective of her, and any other day, it would have been warming, but not then.)

"…poison in her coffee, one of the reasons I began to buy her coffee in the mornings."

"She poisoned you?" Rigsby asked, and she gave him a shrug. Jane had been buying her coffee for the past month, every morning without giving her an explanation at all. She frowned, as she realized Rigsby had distracted her concentration from Taylor's answer and Jane was already speaking again.

"If I had still been married to Agent Lisbon, would Red Calla be called Brown Calla? Would she have gone after brunette haired individuals?"

Taylor sneered. "You have absolutely nothing, Mr. Jane."

"Maybe not," he agreed. "But, it wouldn't take jury very long to convict an individual such as yourself with an insanity ruling." He paused. "You'll spend several months in a psychiatric hospital, and if you're well behaved—you'll be let go."

"Like you were?" Taylor shot back, and Rigsby sharply inhaled. In the years since Jane had murdered Red John, only Lisbon had managed to talk to him about his time in prison, or his insanity ruling, without getting brushed aside. (Though, neither she nor anybody else in the unit had been around when the two had this conversation. It had just always been assumed when Lisbon had come back from the prison.) Jane didn't say anything, and Lisbon appeared that he might haul off and hit Taylor. "I assure you, Mr. Jane. If I had tried to kill Agent Van Pelt, she would be a dead agent right now."

"You were interrupted," Cho spoke.

"No," Taylor snapped, turning her head in his direction. "This is where you are wrong, Agent Cho. Taylor Conway was never interrupted. Get your facts straight!"

Rigsby cut in again. "If anybody is going to nail her, it'll be Jane and Lisbon." He was probably trying to pacify his own thoughts more than he was trying to pacify hers. However, his spoken thoughts weren't helping her sudden headache. "I don't understand how Jane could let you be by yourself, after you were kidnapped on his watch."

She gave him sideways glance. "Once again, Wayne. I'm fine." He frowned, and she sighed. "Catching Red Calla is more important than me, right now." He furrowed his brows, and leaned in closer. "Wayne! What are you doing?"

"Your breath." He told her, and she grimaced.

"I know. It smells horrible, okay? I've kinda had other things on my mind…"

He shook his head. "No. Your breath smells like almond. Have you had anything to eat or drink lately?"

She shrugged. "Lisbon brought me something to eat and drink earlier." She was confused, and her minor headache was becoming a massive migraine. "I don't see how this relates to my rancid breath."

"Grace, that's just it," Rigsby answered. "All I can smell are almonds." She still didn't see a point in Rigsby's inane mutterings. "Are you in any pain?"

"For the _last _time!" She snapped. "I am perfectly fine!" She turned away from him to glance back into the interrogation room, when a wave of dizziness hit her. She staggered, and Rigsby grabbed onto her shoulders to steady her.

"You're not all right, Grace!" He told her. "You need to be taken to a hospital."

"No!" She argued. "I want to hear what's going on." She crossed her arms against her abdomen again, and yanked her shoulders from under his hands. Rigsby stepped backwards, and she frowned. "I think I need to sit down."

The world had started to spin.

She slowly turned toward Rigsby, who had his eyes trained on her.

"Did you hear me?" Were her words slurring together? Why was he staring at her like she was speaking an unknown language?

"Grace, don't move." Rigsby leapt toward her, and pounded his fist against the smooth surface of the glass.

"Is this really needed?" She asked. "I am honestly fine!"

She coughed again, and the pain in her abdomen flared causing her to double over in pain. She hissed, as Rigsby placed his hand on her back.

Everything within her body screamed; she couldn't breathe, she couldn't calm her heart down, her vision blurred, and her lips felt wet. She coughed again, and her lungs screamed in protest.

"Call an ambulance!" Somebody ordered. "Call them now!" She tried to take a step forward again, when she swayed dangerous on her feet.

And before she could even manage to tell them something wasn't fine, she collapsed, darkness swallowing her whole.


	10. Sickness

**Title: **he always gets what he wants

**Disclaimer:** Not mine!

Thanks for the reviews! I seriously do appreciate them!

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><p><strong>9: Sickness<strong>

"You look _much _ better than you did two hours ago," Jane told her, as he remained seated by her hospital bedside. Van Pelt merely rolled her eyes—two hours ago, she hadn't even been awake. "Of course, two hours ago you were poisoned and we didn't know it…but _still_."

"Thanks…I think?" She offered, as she shifted in the hospital bed—it had been _many _years since the last time she had been in a hospital bed, but she remembered the thing just the same: completely uncomfortable.

Jane chuckled before he spoke. "It's a compliment."

"Why are you laughing?" She asked, and he grinned.

"If I had known we'd spend our third month anniversary in the hospital, I would have gotten you_ real _food as a gift."

Her stomach tensed at the idea of food, and he frowned. "Do you need to throw up again?"

She shook her head. "The _last _thing on my mind is anything edible, especially after everything they did to me."

He nodded sympathetically—the drugs given to her to reverse the effects of the poison hadn't been merciful on her stomach, at all.

"It's not often that I'll admit I'm wrong, but Lisbon was right." She glanced at him in question. "We _should _have taken you to the hospital, but like I told Lisbon, the poisoning happened _after _the kidnapping and Rigsby saved the day!" Jane paused with a smile. "He's even angrier with me now, which I didn't even think was possible."

"He blames you?" She asked, and Jane nodded.

In her opinion, it was odd to blame Jane for this. Of course, if Rigsby wanted to blame Jane for the sexual harassment and the rumors going around the office—he could blame all he wanted—but not toward this. It wasn't like the man could read minds or could prevent bad things like this from happening.

"He blames me, albeit silently for, taking you away, getting you getting kidnapped, harming you, and later on, poisoning you."

She frowned, and Jane continued on. "Grace, he just cares for you like I care for Lisbon. If Lisbon got hurt, I'd blame Mashburn because he's _supposed _to protect her."

Van Pelt wanted to argue, but she decided against it—she wasn't male, so she had no idea if what Jane was referencing was a male thing or not.

"Can I ask a question?" He nodded. "I was told I was poisoned with cyanide—that mostly likely somebody had slipped something into my drink, but nobody quite told me how Wayne knew I had been poisoned."

"Almonds," Jane gave, and she gave him a dirty glare.

"I don't see what _almonds _have to do with anything, Jane," she explained. "Wayne went on and on about how my breath smelt like almonds, but he never said why."

"According to Rigsby," Jane explained, "The largest indicator of cyanide poisonings is the smell of _bitter _almond on the breath." He shrugged. "I wouldn't know the difference between the smell of _normal _almond compared to _bitter _almond, so I'm _very _happy he came to check on you." Jane didn't need to tell her what _would _have happened if Rigsby hadn't seen the signs, mainly due to the fact that doctors were cynical enough to tell her that she could have died.

"How'd he know that though?" The last time she checked (which was practically never), cyanide poisoning wasn't _that _common anymore—so unless he had Googled it, she doubted he could have just rattled that off the top of his head.

"When he worked cases with arson, once upon a time, he learned _all _about cyanide poisoning," Jane explained, before he winked. "I think you'd appreciate the short version, more than the two hour version he gave us."

"_Two hours_?" Van Pelt was amused. "Is there really that much to learn about cyanide poisoning?"

Jane shrugged with a smile, before there was a knock at the door. "They wouldn't let anybody in, but me." He glanced at the door. "You can come in!" The door opened to reveal Lisbon, who immediately entered the room to shut the door behind her.

"How are you feeling?" The boss asked, as she came to rest on the other side of her hospital bed.

"Nauseated."

Lisbon frowned. "I would rather you feel like that, than feel nothing at all." Jane grinned at her comment.

"See Grace," Jane chimed in from his seat, "Lisbon missed you." The grimace on the woman's face told her otherwise, but she didn't say a word as Jane changed subjects. "How goes the investigation against our kidnapping, poison-giving serial killer person?"

Lisbon sighed, and she leaned forward in the hospital chair. "Not well."

"Why not boss?" She asked, as Lisbon glanced at her.

"With you having been poisoned, while our number one suspect was in custody? The DA doesn't have enough proof to open a case against Conway."

Jane kept his eyes on Lisbon. "There's more?"

Lisbon nodded. "The DA heard the issue involving Albright, Conway and, Peter." Jane frowned. "Even with the testimonies from me, Cho and Rigsby…the DA is probably going to try with Aubrey's killing herself as an admission of guilt."

"So, you're saying that the DA is just going to ignore all the evidence? What about the pictures?" Lisbon shook her head.

"The pictures _only _showed Van Pelt, and as for us seeing Red Calla—the DA feels that Taylor had a reasonable enough excuse for wandering around a public area with a knife in her hand." Jane continued to glace at Lisbon, and she sighed. "I know it isn't fair, but this is the blind justice system for you."

Jane looked as if he were about to say something insulting, which she quickly put an end to by speaking.

"Boss, how sure are you that Red Calla is Taylor?" Lisbon glanced at her in surprise, before she narrowed her eyes.

"I think I'd remember the bitch that stood over you with a knife, Van Pelt!" Lisbon snapped, and Van Pelt recoiled.

"Lisbon!" Jane chided, before he turned to glance exclusively at her. "What's wrong, Grace? What has gotten you so spooked?"

"I don't know," she lied in a whisper, and Jane grew thoughtful.

"I know that look, Jane," Lisbon commented. "You know _exactly _what caused Van Pelt to act as if I was just about to hit her."

Van Pelt stared at her boss—realistically, she knew Lisbon would _never _raise a hand toward her in a violent manner, but the recoil at the tone in the woman's voice had been like a second reflex—something she had never had before, really.

"She wasn't hypnotized," Jane spoke, brightly. "She _was _drugged, however—but I think the drug was only supposed to be a light form of that white stuff you knock people out with in movies…?"

"Chloroform?" Van Pelt asked, and Jane nodded. "The doctors also found no sign of head trauma, so there goes that theory."

"Fair enough," Jane replied. "What about external injuries?" Lisbon glanced at her, and she bit her lip.

"Van Pelt," Lisbon addressed. "Did you let the doctors look at you?"

Sheepishly, she shook her head and Lisbon opened her mouth when Jane stood from his chair. "Lisbon, can I see you for a second?" Lisbon nodded, and stood from her chair—the both of them found a spot far enough away from her to hold a private conversation, but she watched them having what seemed to be a heated argument.

She glanced back down at her hospital bracelet.

_I probably should have allowed them to look me over_, she thought; her body was sore all over, especially her abdomen and lower legs. When Jane and Lisbon finally returned to her, she kept her eyes firmly on her hospital bracelet.

"Van Pelt?" Lisbon addressed, again and she didn't look up. "Look at me." She glanced up to meet Lisbon's eyes. "You need to get looked at, because if you don't—we will _never _catch the person who did this to you."

She nodded in understanding.

"Please, do this," Jane pleaded, and she bit her lip in thought; something felt off with getting looked at, but she nodded again.

"After that," Jane continued, "we have something else to do."

* * *

><p>"Mr. Jane said you wanted to be examined, Agent Van Pelt?" Dr. Cecilia Thomas greeted, as she strolled into the hospital room. "Don't look so nervous—this is a painless procedure, I promise you!" Van Pelt nodded. "I need you to take off your shirt, but there's really no need for moving from the bed though." She nodded again, and carefully slipped off her semi-dirty shirt and left her bra, but she refused to glance down at her abdomen. "I can see that somebody has already taken care of whatever is behind these bandages."<p>

Van Pelt glanced at the doctor, before she glanced down at the white bandages that cocooned her abdomen.

"Doctor," she spoke, her voice rising in pure panic. "I've never seen that particular bandage before." Dr. Thomas moved closer, and carefully undid the white bandage to find a rather large laceration, which had been neatly stitched up. "I've never seen this before either! This wasn't here yesterday!"

"Calm down, Agent," Dr. Thomas tried to soothe. "I will inquire around the hospital and see if any of the other doctors catered to your wound, but for now, I'm going to place another bandage over it, all right?" She nodded, and the doctor did so in silence. "Can you lean forward for me?"

"I think so." She leaned forward, so the doctor could inspect her back for any injury, she supposed. "Your back seems perfectly fine."

"Can I pull back on my shirt now?"

"Of course, but let me get you one." The doctor went over to one of the many cabinets within the room, and pulled out a hospital top. "Here, you go." Van Pelt pulled the greenish-blue shirt on, before the doctor spoke again. "Are there any other parts on your body that currently ache?"

"I keep feeling these sharp pains in my legs." The doctor nodded.

"Remove your dress pants, if you can." She said nothing, as she unbuckled her pants and slid them completely off—she didn't even glance down at her legs. "Agent!" Dr. Thomas exclaimed in alarm. "How did you get these injuries? Better yet! How did you even manage to stand on your own without collapsing in pain?"

Van Pelt inhaled sharply, before she glanced down at her legs with a gasp—a rare mess covered her legs, indeed! Every square inch of her skin had been painted with black and blue, while red welts decorated her ankles and forelegs. "I was kidnapped," she stated in a whisper to herself, "Somebody did this to me." She paused. "They really weren't lying."

(The poisoning hadn't proven anything, but the marks on her legs and the stab mark on her abdomen, proved that something _extremely _bad had happened to her.)

Dr. Thomas frowned. "We need to take pictures." Van Pelt opened her mouth to argue—she didn't want anybody seeing those pictures, when Dr. Thomas shook her head. "That wasn't a request, Agent. I am, by law, required to report any major injury that I see to an officer of the law by using documentation."

The brunette doctor turned to another cabinet to find whatever she was looking for. "After I take these pictures, we'll go ahead and start the healing process on your legs—I will also ask about the bandage on your abdomen." The woman turned to face her with a camera. "Try not to move, all right?"

She nodded, and let the doctor go on with her work.

* * *

><p>"That wasn't so bad now was it, Grace?" Jane asked her, with a giant smile on his face as she remained in an upright position, with the covers piled against her abdomen.<p>

"Where's Lisbon?" She didn't even acknowledge his question.

"Talking with Dr. Thomas." Jane informed her. "She'll be along shortly, I presume."

"Did Dr. Thomas show you the…" She trailed off, while Jane shook his head.

"Lisbon didn't think it was right, and believe it or not, I actually agreed. Besides," he whispered, "I have a question for you."

Van Pelt nearly groaned. Jane's questions never meant anything good toward her sanity. Besides, she had never gotten the chance to ask him hers yet.

"Would you like to know what happened to you?"

"How?" she asked. "I thought I blocked the memory."

Jane nodded. "Oh, you did," he explained. "The mind can only take so many traumas before it begins to defend itself. I don't know if you ever took a psychology course in college or not…"

"I did," she replied. "It was mandatory."

"Good, then you know why the mind is such a mighty fortress."

She did know. "Jane, the term for that is a defense mechanism."

He nodded again. "Yes, you set up your own defense mechanism to forget things, but no worries!" he brightly exclaimed. "With or without your permission, I'd like to try hypnotism…"

"No!" she cried without hesitation. "Absolutely not! And what do you mean with or without my permission?" She narrowed her eyes. "If you, so much as try to hypnotize me, _I _will punch you in the face."

Jane smirked, "…and you said you haven't changed."

"I'm serious, Jane," she repeated. "No hypnotism."

"Don't you want to get revenge on Red Calla?" Jane asked, seriously. "She's hurt you, Grace! It wasn't like she just gave you the knife, and made you hurt yourself." She glanced down at the blanket in thought; Jane's idea of revenge had been three bullets, but her idea of revenge was justice. "If you're not going to avenge yourself, then at least avenge for the five lives the killer _did _take."

The door to the room opened, and Lisbon entered.

"We'll catch her, Van Pelt," Lisbon promised. "You don't need to resort to hypnotism, just so you know." The boss glared at Jane.

So, Lisbon was against the idea of using hypnotism. She briefly wondered why.

"Don't listen to Lisbon, Grace," Jane answered. "You trust me, right?"

"No."

Lisbon laughed. "Smart girl."

Jane pouted. "We're dating, and you don't trust me. Now Grace, there is something wrong with that picture." She shook her head, and Jane continued on. "I'm assuming Lisbon can only keep Conway in holding for so long." Lisbon nodded. "If we don't get her, Grace. She'll slip from lady justice's fingers, and kill again."

"Forty-eight hours is the longest we can legally sit on her, though," Lisbon explained. "It's your choice, Van Pelt. I'm not going to tell you yes or no. However, if you do this—I _will _stay with a tape recorder to make sure Jane doesn't try anything funny." The boss threw another glare at him.

"I just asked you about the Spice Girls. Don't get your panties in a bunch, Lisbon."

While they continued to argue over Jane's fleeting innocence, she debated over the idea of letting him hypnotize her.

They needed to catch a serial killer, but what if the hypnotism was painful? What if the hypnotism had some profound effect? Was all of it really worth catching a serial killer, before she became the next Red John?

_Yes_, she thought, _it was_.

"…keep telling yourself that, Jane—when pigs fly, you'll be innocent."

Van Pelt cleared her throat. "I'll do it."

Jane grinned, as he turned from Lisbon to clap his hands together. "You won't feel a thing, Grace."

The words sent a shiver down her spine, but she ignored the feeling to nod.

Lisbon nodded. "It's painless, trust me."

She had to trust them, didn't she? After all, they were the ones to help her get her memory back.


	11. Under

**Title: **he always gets what he wants

**Disclaimer: **Nope…

I only have this and one more chapter left, so I thought I would just completely finish posting the story.

* * *

><p><strong>10: Under<strong>

"Are you comfortable?"

"Yes."

"Tell us about where you were kept. For right now, ignore anybody else in the room with you. You are safe here, nobody can harm you."

* * *

><p><em>The room was cold, and it was dark. The CBI had already faded from her mind, as the handcuffs continued to nip at her bare wrists. The uncomfortable mattress beneath her smelled of stale urine and sweat. <em>

_It made her want to gag, but something hard had been stuffed into her mouth. _

_From where she was, a faded yellow bucket caught her eye and she pulled at her ankles to find them bound together. _

_She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. She was going to die alone here. _

* * *

><p>"Good, good. Now, focus on anybody in the room with you—what do they smell like?"<p>

"I can't tell."

"That's fine. What do they look like?"

"Shoulder length brunette hair, cold brown eyes—she likes to teach lessons."

"What lessons, Grace? Tell us about your lessons."

* * *

><p><em>"You're finally awake, I'm glad." <em>

_The voice belonged to Red Calla, and she tried to crawl away from the killer but she found herself paralyzed in fear. Her eyes couldn't leave the long brunette haired figure, and the face seemed _very _familiar to her—but the eyes, the eyes; they were completely void of warmth or compassion. _

_ "Oh Grace, don't be shy. I've given you hospitality, and this is how you repay me? Tsk. Tsk. Your first lesson is needed to be taught then."_

_In absolute terror, she watched the serial killer wield a knife. She tried to scream to keep the killer away but Red Calla came nearer. _

_ "Now, calm my darling." Red Calla's white-laced glove had taken ahold of her hair, and yanked it back to where her head was tilted completely back. "Our first lesson will be very valuable—you see, when somebody asks for an answer, you should always answer them." _

_The cold metal was placed to her throat. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to this," she whimpered. "But, I can't." The knife was dropped to the concrete floor with a dull thump. "Not yet, anyway." _

* * *

><p>"It's okay, Grace. You are all right, okay? Nobody is going to harm you. It's all in your mind."<p>

* * *

><p><em>Red Calla slowly undid all the buttons on her favorite shirt, until she remained clad in only a bra. She didn't like that, especially as the knife dipped dangerous close to her navel. The killer didn't say anything, as she circled the area of her abdomen with the point of the cold blade. <em>

_ "Do you like this, Grace?" _

_The tip dug into her skin, and she whimpered. _

_ "I couldn't hear you, Grace." There was more pressure, and her face felt wet—tears?—"Again, I repeat. Do you like this?" _

_She tried to push the restraint from her mouth with her tongue, when a sharp pain tore through her abdomen. She screamed into the gag, her body tried to arch off the mattress but Red Calla's kept her pressed to the mattress. _

_ "Oh, my bad." Red Calla gave, her voice was cold. "My hand slipped." _

_Everything then went black. _

* * *

><p>"The pain isn't there, Grace. Nobody is hurting you right now. It's a memory."<p>

* * *

><p><em>"I stitched you up." Red Calla told her, when she regained consciousness. "However, you bled all over my clean floor. I think you need to be taught a second lesson." <em>

_Red Calla yanked the gag from her mouth, and she went to scream. _

_ "If you scream, I will kill you." She nodded, and bit her lip hard. "Now, for your second lesson—you should learn how to keep a clean house, and the red all over my floor will help you learn the proper way of cleaning." _

_She nodded, not wanting to argue with the killer. _

_ "Clean the floor with your tongue, Grace. I want the entire floor to shine, again." _

_She tried to obey, but the pain in her abdomen was too much. She couldn't move. She cried out. _

_ "Oh, you're going to be _difficult_." Red Calla spit. "No worries, I know how to deal with incompetent children—you'll be begging for me to kill you, once this is all done and over with."_

* * *

><p>"What happened next, Grace? What did she do to you?"<p>

* * *

><p><em>The leather whip cracked against her leg, and she arched off the mattress. <em>

_ "For each lash I deliver, you will count to fifteen. If you miss a number, we _will _start over until you learn your lesson." _

_The whip cracked down on her bare skin. Red Calla had stripped her of her dignity. _

_ "O-one." _

_The whip cracked down, again. _

_ "T-two." _

_ "You're not fast enough, Grace." Red Calla lectured. "You need to be faster if you want to prove to me that you've learned something." _

_The whip cracked down, and she arched out in pain again. _

_ "One!" _

_ "Excellent! Shall we continue?" _

* * *

><p>"How many lashes did she give you in total, Grace?"<p>

"Thirty-two."

"Did she use anything other than the leather whip on you?"

"No."

"Did you learn your lesson?"

"Yes."

"Did you end up cleaning the floor with your tongue?"

"Yes. I cleaned it up until it shined."

"We're almost done. You've done such a good job telling us this. Lisbon and I are extremely proud of you, Grace. However, we need you to tell us who kidnapped you. Who is Red Calla?"

* * *

><p><em>"Do you know who I am now, Grace?" Red Calla asked. "I should tell you that I have many reasons to want you dead, but mainly because you are dating somebody you aren't worth of. Isn't that right?" <em>

_She nodded—she wasn't worthy. She wasn't. _

_ "What do you have that I don't, Agent? Please enlighten me! Is it your pretty red hair? Your fair and dainty complexion? Or a perfect smile?" Red Calla paused, before she chuckled darkly. "Let me tell you, Grace—perfection is deadly and _extremely _overrated." _

_She didn't respond. _

_She was ready to die. _

_ "Before I kill you, you _do _deserve to know who I am—after all, it is impolite to not introduce one's self." Red Calla chuckled, darkly. "You know me best as Taylor Conway, and goodbye Agent Van Pelt." _

_She closed her eyes. _

* * *

><p>She opened her eyes.<p>

* * *

><p>She wanted to sob, but Lisbon's in-and-out presence kept her from doing so. Both consultant and senior agent seemed absolutely horrified by her story, but Lisbon had slipped out the door for a moment to let Cho know about the change in events.<p>

Jane held onto her hand, and she felt somewhat better.

"Grace?" Jane's voice broke the comfortable silence. "This is a horrible time to ask you this, but I need a favor from you."

She sniffed. "What is it?"

He let go of her hand to pull out a black velvet box from inside his three-piece suit jacket, but he quickly hid the box again when Lisbon slipped back into the room. "You look happy."

"I _am _happy." She gave. "Taylor Conway has been arrested. No bail has been set, and a serial killer case has been closed without _any _of my team in jail or on suspension." Jane sheepishly grinned, before the boss turned to her. "I know that wasn't easy, Grace—but you helped us all out. Thank you."

"It's no problem, boss."

Lisbon smiled, slightly. "I'll see you both later; I need to supervise things back at work, and make sure this isn't going to turn out to be a three-way circus." Both Van Pelt and Jane waved their goodbyes, as Lisbon stepped outside the hospital room before he turned back to her.

"I know you know what this box is, and what exactly is _inside _this box."

She nodded. "It's a wedding ring."

"It is." He agreed. "I want you to marry me—I was going to wait until our fourth month anniversary to ask, but after listening to you tell me about everything you went through—I realized it just couldn't wait." He winked, and she realized that even though Jane's timing was absolutely horrible, she had to give the man credit—asking _just _as Lisbon had left was an excellent way for the woman to listen in. "Grace Van Pelt, will you do the honor of marrying me?"

She didn't even hesitate to answer.

"Yes."


	12. Luck

**Title: **he always gets what he wants

**Disclaimer: **Nope…

Thank you everybody for reading and just being patient with this story, as it is now complete. Yay!

* * *

><p><strong>11: Luck<strong>

Their fourth and fifth month anniversaries had been taken over by wedding planning.

She hadn't wanted a real wedding, but he had insisted that Lisbon needed to believe that they were actually going through with this.

_This_, of course, included dress shopping, engagement parties, rehearsal dinners, and meeting the parents—her parents _hated _Jane, which was hilarious in her opinion, and frustrating in his.

However, as the wedding approached—Van Pelt grew slightly nervous. She knew she could say "I do", but if Lisbon _didn't _stop the wedding? What if they were stuck together until she shot him? Her fear was completely valid, and one day, as she had passed the bathrooms on the second floor, she realized why the man hadn't worried _too _much.

He and Lisbon were engaged in illicit activities, which Jane had later explained had been after Lisbon had ended things with Mashburn. It humored her slightly that the boss and consultant had decided to rekindle their flame _behind _her back, but it also sickened her—they didn't _really _need to do that particular activity at work. Apparently, Lisbon and Jane had divorced because _someone_—Jane wouldn't name himself or Lisbon, although she had a feeling who it was—had fallen out of love with the other person, due to the stress from all of the continuous secret keeping.

All-in-all, Jane's planned seemed completely fool proof—until the day of the wedding—their sixth month anniversary.

"It's bad luck for the bride and groom to see other before the wedding," Jane teased, as she stood before him dressed in her white bridal gown.

"I'm _hoping _for bad luck." She answered. "An earthquake would be _really _nice right about now." He chuckled, and she watched as his eyes looked her over from head to foot. Once upon a time, something like that _ would _have made her feel extremely uncomfortable.

"You look beautiful." He responded. "I'm sure Rigsby would agree, if he was here." She lightly blushed. "And you're a blushing bride, Grace. We've hit all the clichés for a real wedding."

"This isn't a real wedding," she reminded him. "So, please forgive me if I refuse to walk down the aisle."

She'd been feeling disoriented all day, and she knew her feelings came from being at a wedding (her wedding, even if it _was _fake.) What if his plan didn't work? What if the both of them were stuck together for life? (The idea made her stomach curl). It'd be a loveless marriage, just because Jane couldn't _always _get what he wanted.

He touched her arm lightly. "If it doesn't do anything, I promise to be the best fake-husband ever."

She laughed. "I don't doubt that, Jane." And she really didn't; he'd been the best fake boyfriend for three months, and the best fake fiancée for another three after that. Even with everything that had gone on, he'd been a much better rock than either Craig or Wayne had ever been. "I suppose if I do have to marry, you aren't so bad."

"Like I said, Grace." He repeated with a laugh, and she rolled her eyes. "I always get what I want." They both smiled. "You better get back. Your mother doesn't seem like the type of person who lets her daughter break tradition."

"She isn't." Van Pelt slyly admitted, as she started toward the door.

"How'd you get away?"

"See you later, Jane." She slipped out the door, with him laughing behind her.

* * *

><p>Jane smiled at her, as she stepped down the aisle; to everybody, they probably looked as if they really were in love and it almost made her laugh—but with her dad beside her, it didn't seem like the <em>best <em>of time to do so. Though, they had rehearsed this last night, she still felt nervous (fake wedding or not, she didn't want to trip).

Before long, her father gave her to Jane, who grabbed her hands as they stood before the priest. It was probably the longest ceremony of her life, listening to all the gibber-jabber tossed back between the three of them, but eventually the priest glanced out into the crowd gathered, with a small smile. "If anybody has a reason why these two should not be wed; speak forever or hold your peace."

Jane clenched her hands tighter, and she prayed to God that his plan worked. The only person who had to reject was Lisbon, and hopefully she would. After a few moments of silence, the priest continued and her heart plummeted. "Well, if…"

"I object!" two voices cried out in unison. Both she and Jane glanced out at the guests to find Lisbon standing in one row, dressed in an emerald green dress, and Rigsby, dressed in a tux, standing in another row.

Jane shot her a grin. "Whoever said I can't always get what I want owes me money."

The priest cleared his throat, as the guests were in an uproar over the objected marriage. "Both of you have a reason?"

"Yes." both answered.

"What are they?"

Lisbon glanced at Jane. "Well first of all, this relationship has always seemed odd. I know how you work Jane, and I know that you probably coerced Van Pelt into this sham of a relationship to win me back."

"I have no idea of what you're talking about, Lisbon." Van Pelt had to give the man credit; Lisbon _knew _their game, and yet he insisted his (their) innocence.

"I'm sure you don't," Lisbon mocked. "Van Pelt." The boss directly addressed her. "Did you willingly enter this relationship?"

"Of course, boss." Even if it had taken a week of persistent goading to do so.

"Ma'am?" The priest interrupted. "Do you have an actual reason…"

"Jane and I are lovers." The entire congregation gasped. "Isn't that true, Jane?"

"I'm sorry, Grace," Jane admitted, and Van Pelt broke down laughing—in all honesty, she had _never _ever thought her boss would have admitted that. In fact, it was probably the moment she'd look back on in ten years and laugh about it all over again. (Of course, the tears streaming down her face didn't help anything; Lisbon was probably feeling guilty, and her mom was probably trying to decide between either strangling both Jane and Lisbon or comforting her daughter.) "I'm guilty as charged."

"Van Pelt, if I had known you loved him…" Lisbon began, before Jane waved Lisbon to join the both of them at the altar. The woman moved quickly to join them, and once she was to the right of Jane—he leaned over, and whispered loudly enough for just the three of them to hear.

"Lisbon, she's laughing. Her tears? They're from you admitting that we've been having sex in your office every weekend." He beamed. "I had no idea you'd actually out our relationship like that, you're a very bad girl." Lisbon scowled. "You have to admit, Lisbon—it's _pretty _funny."

"Shut up, Jane!"

The priest cleared his throat. "If the three of you are done, I'm sure the young man would like to address his reason for objecting." Van Pelt, even in her clear state of "distress," glanced up from the floor to stare at Rigsby.

"Well," he awkwardly began. "I was _going _to say I saw Jane cheating on Grace with Lisbon…but she came clean…" He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he didn't and she was thankful. The _last _thing she needed was for Lisbon to admit she was in a sexual relationship with Jane, and then Rigsby decide to say he loved her in front of the entire congregation.

Their love lives _weren't _soap operas, but she was beginning to rethink that.

"Grace," the priest addressed her. "After everything you've heard today, do you want to continue with this marriage?"

And finally, she said the words that set her free.

"I don't."

**Six Weeks Later…**

"Can I ask you both a question?" Van Pelt glanced up from her mug of tea, to find Lisbon holding her own coffee mug. Jane, who sat next to her, threw Lisbon a smile as she sat across from the both of them on the balcony of the CBI. "It's about your relationship."

"Are you insanely jealous, Lisbon?" Jane teased, and Lisbon grimaced. "You should know that you're my one and only…the person I love…the person who…" he made an odd sound, and she figured Lisbon had just kicked the man under the table.

"Boss," she continued, before Lisbon could say anything else, "Jane and I are just friends."

"That's not my question," Lisbon replied. "I wanted to ask: what if I hadn't objected? Would the two of you still be together?"

"Lisbon," Jane sighed, "Grace and I would have married, and the affair would have continued. Besides," he offered her a grin. "Grace caught us in the bathroom."

She shivered. She _never _wanted to catch the two of them doing it ever again. She still didn't feel _completely _comfortable with that third floor bathroom.

Lisbon nodded and sipped at her coffee.

"Although," Jane gave "our babies would have been absolutely delightful." Both women choked on their beverages, as Van Pelt shook her head in horror. "We would have named them Devon Autumn and Brandon Michael; they'd have my blonde hair, and exceedingly good charms."

"Don't say that!" she cried, horrified as she hit his arm. The _last _thing she wanted was to ruin the rekindled relationship between the two. "Boss, we're not…we never…!" She couldn't even finish her sentence—talking intimate details with the boss wasn't something she even wanted to do!

"Whatever you two did is none of my concern, Van Pelt."

"Would it be your concern if it was happening now?" Jane asked, as he quickly leaned over to give her a kiss on the lips. Van Pelt blushed and Lisbon raised her eyebrow. "Once again, my jokes aren't appreciated around here."

"Not when they're about cheating, Jane," she scowled, which Van Pelt found to be pretty hiliarious.

"Lisbon knows you're just a good friend," Jane replied. "After all, I've seen you naked…" She blushed scarlet. Damn him for reminding her of the night when he had broken into her apartment!

"I'm not even going to ask."

"It's probably better you don't," Jane answered. "But the point of this story is, both of you will forever be my special ladies."

If she rolled her eyes in response to Jane's remark, Lisbon probably had also.

"So, if Lisbon and I ever get bored of our sex lives and we go looking for threesome, you are _more _than…"

"Jane!" both women cried, as he sighed with a smirk.

"I really know how to pick them, don't I?"


End file.
